Boy Crazy: Coming Out Erotica Read Online Free PDF Page A

this real? He sighed in return, and his fingers traced around my spine. “You’re bony,” he said plainly. It was real.
     
    “Thanks.” I knew there was some sexual innuendo I could have thrown after that one, but all that came out was “thanks.” I was terrified. Fear dulls my cleverness. The most I’d ever done with a straight guy was a meaningless hand job in a meaningless circle jerk that everyone pretended didn’t exist after it happened. And my history with gay guys? Meh…I’d rather torture myself with attempted conquests of unattainable guys like this Viking than with the shallow prancing douche bags in the drug-infested club scene.
     
    And as conquests go, this was coming along.
     
    “I’m not a fag,” he said. Right. The fingers tickling my back lisped otherwise.
     
    “Yeah,” I said feigning confusion. “I hate fags.”
     
    He still wasn’t fazed, and he looked at me. And with terrifying seriousness he got very close to my face and said, “Good, because I fucking hate fags.”
     
    See. This scared me. I was half joking. Yeah, I “hate” fags, but I don’t hate fags. The Viking, on the other hand: his pugnacious voice pierced me. But I laughed lightly, if awkwardly. Ha ha, we’re still joking, right? Those fingers felt good.
     
    I was hard as a rock. I was a porn cliché. I was dripping in my boxers. To hide from his eyes, I shifted back down on his chest. His other hand came around to my head and pulled off my beanie. This felt intimate too. He did it gently. His big fingers massaged my shaggy hair, my scalp. So fucking nice. Fingers on my spine. On my scalp. I did the next logical thing and pressed my lips to his nipple. I kissed it amidst the curly orange hair, carefully, unsure, and drew my fingers down his side, to his hip and stomach, feeling the hard grooves that framed his belly button. His fingers on my scalp turned into a strong palm, pressing me down. I put my lips around his nipple and licked and sucked, and he pressed harder and I sucked harder. The hand on my back clawed into me, scratching. Fuck. The tide, the mood, was shifting. This was fucking for real. This wasn’t a joke anymore. This was the point of no return. I gulped for breath and slid to his other nipple and moved to straddle him.
     
    When I landed on him, he was fucking naked! I froze. A hard smooth cockhead pressed against my ass through my boxers. We had been under the sheets the whole time. I hadn’t seen how very nude he was. I looked at him, and his eyes burned into mine. Like a fucking hungry animal. I bucked my ass gently against his cock, getting a feel for it, letting it slip back and forth across my asscrack and hole. Each pass made my cock throb, and the wet patch on my boxers grew. I leaned forward and my hands rested on his solid pecs. His hands gripped my bony sides, tight over my ribs, under my arms.
     
    He licked his lips. I leaned in gently, but he grabbed my face. Fucking grabbed it! And pulled me in and conquered my mouth. I fell on his chest, his lips devoured mine, and he held my face with those monstrous hands and his tongue fucked my face, as deep into my throat as he could get. I almost gagged. I almost fucking gagged on his fucking tongue. Fuck. He had a bear grip on me. I almost couldn’t breathe. I fought back with my lips, sparring with him. His stubbly beard tickled. His hands pulled at my skin, my sides, my back, jolts that tickled, and hurt. We were now two dogs fighting for the same bowl of food, gasping, panting, licking. I’ve never had a guy bury his tongue in my mouth like him. I tried to slow him, but he wouldn’t let up.
     
    A hand flew down hungrily to my boxers, and he fucking pulled them down with one hand. One hand! My uncut cock bounced out, five and a half inches. Hey—I’m travel size, remember? He got the boxers down to my knees. I was no match for him. I couldn’t fight this even if I wanted to. His strong hands gripped me again, and suddenly I was on my