LGBT Stories

They call me Matt; but it was Matthew when I was younger. It’s a good, strong, masculine name of which I have always been proud. This name, and the gift of life, were the only things my parents were allowed to give to me. Unfortunately, they both perished in a fiery automobile accident on a treacherous winter’s night when I was a mere infant. I have no distinct memory of them other than two dog-eared snapshots circa 1953: one of my then-18-year-old dad. hair slicked back, leather jacket over white tee, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip and standing in his best James Dean impersonation; the other of my mom in a wrap-around plaid skirt leaning against an old Ford, looking very much like a young Natalie Wood. The photographs were taken two years before I was born, and less than a year later they were gone.

From that moment on, I was shifted from relative to relative, from coast to coast, never spending enough time in one place to grow any roots or develop any lasting relationships. Luckily, both my parents came from large families so there was no shortage of homes for me to visit. Usually, an aunt would decide that the burden of another child in the household was too much and I would be packed off to the next home.

Early on I knew that I was a good looking boy. Women loved to pat my silken hair or pinch my rosy cheeks. One particularly nasty aunt often commented on my resemblance to my deceased father, who, it seemed, was not a favorite with the family. My father seemed to have had a reputation as a ladie’s man. I knew that I failed to follow in his footsteps; the other boys in school were what interested me.

(more…)

The summer job had been great so far. I was a bus boy/waiter at a resort in the Pocono mountains of Pennsylvania. It was one of those large family type hotels with all sorts of activities for the guests. I lived right on the grounds in one of the employee dorms which really were the rooms in the old section of the hotel. I shared my room with three other guys about my age who all were there just for the summer.

Chuck was the youngest of our group. He had just turned 18 and was headed back to high school after the summer. Jeff, Alan and I were all going to be college freshman. I began discovering new feelings that summer and part of the new feelings came from sharing a room with other guys for the first time in my life. The thing I liked about sharing the room was that we spent a lot of time partly dressed. None of the guys had any hesitation about walking around in just a pair of cut offs or even better just their underwear and all of us slept in just our briefs.

Chuck was the most enjoyable to watch when he tried to be “one of the guys” and lounge in his briefs. He usually wore young men’s Fruit of the Loom. You know the kind. They were regular fly front and had the two thin blue stripes on the elastic waistband. He had obviously grown since he bought them and the fit was nice and tight. There was something so exciting about his young man’s body being squeezed into those boy’s size 16 soft cotton shorts. The waistband was narrower then most adult underwear and the leg openings were not sized for Chuck’s solid male legs. The pouch that held his pubescent balls and cock was not full cut either and it was easy to see the dark shadow of his pubic hair as it spilled past the double layer fly into the single layer of stretched cloth on either side of that pouch that was trying to hold it all in. I realized soon that I wasn’t the only room mate who had my eyes glued to him. There were times when I spotted both Jeff and Al watching Chuck’s firm buns rounding out the skimpy briefs.

(more…)

On the 5th of July I rode my bike to my best friend Timmy’s house. He was already on the sidewalk waiting for me and we pedaled downtown together.

We were pretty quiet on the ride, which was unusual for us. But the day before had been unusual, too. I was still sorting out my reactions to what had happened, and I thought Timmy was as well.

When we got downtown we rode to the abandoned hardware store where we had met the two young sailors Mike and Davey. We looked up at the second story window, both of thinking private thoughts, conjuring up the sights, sounds and smells of the day before, when Mike and Davey had taken our virginity.

My dick was stirring in my jeans at the memory of Mike licking my butthole and fucking me. I looked at Timmy’s crotch, where I saw a similar bulge. Davey had done the same thing to him.

I caught my friend’s eye and smiled. He smiled back, but it was kind of uncertain.

“What?” I asked him, puzzled.

He looked down at his handlebars.

“I–I just don’t know about it all, Billy.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked around to be sure no one on the street could hear.

(more…)

My cousin Tom had this book with real dirty pictures in it. He used to like to
show it to me and then tease me by taking it away just as I was getting
interested in the pictures. I was twelve and he was about fourteen, just
enough older so he could think he was supposed to be the boss all the time.
One day he showed me this picture of a girl kneeling down in front of this guy
and you could see his big hard dick disappearing into her mouth. That really
was an exciting picture. I wondered what it would feel like to have someone do
that to you. After I saw that picture it was like I couldn’t get it out of my
mind. I’d be daydreaming about something else and it would pop into my mind.
That picture became my number one fantasy thing for jerking off, too. I jerked
off a lot when I was twelve, just like everybody else I guess. I would
estimate that that picture got me off about a million times. I even tried to
borrow it from my cousin, but he wouldn’t let me. So I had to rely on my
memory. I just couldn’t get it out of my head, wondering what it would feel
like to have someone actually take your hard prick into their warm, wet mouth
and suck and bite on it until you came. God, but that was exciting.
And then one day Tom let me look at the picture for a while and after a few
minutes he came over and sat down next to me on his bed and asked me if I knew
that anyone could do that to a guy, that it didn’t have to be a girl. I
honestly can’t remember whether that surprised me or not. I don’t think it
did, since I hadn’t really spent too much time thinking about the girl part of
the picture, just the sucking part– the mouth part.
Tom: I bet that feels real good, don’t you think?

(more…)

When I was eleven years old my cousin, who was
thirteen, took it upon himself to teach me the finer
points of masturbation. Since he was himself a
connoisseur, I couldn’t have been in better hands– so
to speak. Under his tutelage I got intensive hands on
experience and got my first glimpse into a new world
of intense physical sensation. I learned something
about the potential of my body, and others, for
pleasure. In that long-ago summer, I became an
apprentice to delight.

The “first time” was in his bedroom in the attic of
his parents’ old farm house. That room was my cousin’s
refuge, his fortress, his chapel of privacy and
solitude in a family dominated by three older sisters.
One night, in the huge old oak-framed double bed which
he shared with me when I visited him, he knelt over me
and showed me how to use Vaseline on my erect penis.
Slowly and gently he smoothed the cool gel onto my hot
flesh and we watched as it dissolved into the slick
basting that made it his favorite. He showed me how to
hold myself, how to squeeze, how to vary the rhythm of
up-and-down strokes that caused tingles of pleasure to
use my spine as a marimba of sensation. He taught me
how to prolong the final rush of pleasure and how to
make the climax last as long as possible by holding
the throbbing orgasmic member tightly just below the
plum of the glans and squeezing and jiggling gently
during the climax.

(more…)

QUESTION Mikey, the other guys tell me you’re a real help to them in
winning all those games of Capture the Flag.

ANSWER Yeah?

Q Yeah. They say you’re the real reason they can always find the other
troop’s flag. Is that true?

A I dunno. What’d they say?

Q Well, not too much. But they did say that when they caught one of
the other guys they could always bring him to you and you’d be able to
find out where they hid their flag. They said you’re the best.

A Yeah? They did? The best, huh?

Q The very best. Want to tell me about it?

A Jeez, I dunno. You gonna put this in a book or something?

Q Maybe. But if I do I would use a phoney name. No one would ever know
it was you telling this stuff.

A You sure? You promise?

(more…)

When I was thirteen years old, my neighbor and I played a game. We
called it the Bus Game because that was mostly where we played it.
Sometimes we also played it in a movie theater, or at the library, or
even on a park bench. But mostly it was a game for the bus.

It sounds silly, but we were really into it for almost a year. We’d
play it every chance we got. Here’s how it worked. Before we went to
the bus stop to catch the bus my friend would handcuff my hands behind
my back. Sometimes he’d tie my wrists to each leg with a belt or a
leather bootlace or something like that, but mostly we used the
handcuffs behind my back. Sometimes he’d even leave the key at his
house so I’d know there would be no way for me to be released until we
got back. Then he’d put a big overcoat on me and button it up so no
one could see the cuffs. We’d walk down to the corner and wait for the
bus. Usually we’d sit toward the back, but sometimes he’d feel real
bold and pick a seat right in the middle of a big crowd of people, or
even right up front behind the driver. Both of the side pockets of the
overcoat had the bottoms cut out, and once we were sitting down he
would slip his hand into whichever pocket was handy and start playing
with my dick. That was the idea of the game, for him to make me have a
hard-on and then to masturbate me very slowly without anyone catching
on to what was going on. I know it sounds really dumb, but for several
months we were almost addicted to that game.

(more…)

I grew up in this tiny village in Pennsylvania. It’s still
there too. There might have been five hundred people in town. If a
person somehow did not know you they certainly knew someone in your
family. Everyone was connected two or three ways.

Andy’s family lived about two blocks away. He was one of my
best friends from as early as I can remember. He was also my first.
My very first. He had the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life.
The kind of a cock that you see in some GIF file named EENORMUS.GIF
or something. When we were thirteen I couldn’t get my thumb to meet
any of my fingers around that monster if it was erect, and it almost
always was when we were together.

(more…)

“You’re fast! That was my best time in the 100. My best. By the time I could blink, you had already won. Who are you?”

That was the comment that got us talking. Well, Jerry did most of the talking, as I was too winded - and too dumb to reply. The cutest guy in the whole world was talking to me, and I could only gasp for breath.

Jerry stuck out his hand to congratulate me. I tried hard to respond like any cool jock might, but that’s not easy when you are shaking hands with the most popular and gorgeous jock in school. I had just beaten the school’s track champ in the hundred-yard dash. I wasn’t sure how he would respond.

I was a new kid at Langston Middle School; the out of town kid that didn’t make new friends easily. No one took me seriously when I wanted to try out for the school’s track team. The other runners had just showed up to place.

Jerry was the school’s fastest trackman. He was pretty close to the school’s all time record for this race - and I had just beaten him on my first attempt. Even I wondered if I had done the right thing. I was nowhere near as good looking as this young Greek God.

I was staring at his light brown hair, lean muscular chest, blue eyes, tan complexion, powerful legs, and terrific face. His smile had melted me into a blundering idiot that could only stutter stupid panting sounds. What a terrific way to meet the school’s all American boy. I didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

(more…)

Skye was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, not thinking very
much at all. He had just woken up and didn’t want to think about all the
chores his mom had planned for him. So far, his summer vacation had been
one thing after another - first it was cleaning out his closet, then the
attic, then the garage and now he wondered just what she could come up
with today. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 9:27, meaning that
she would be up any minute to wake him up and give him his daily
assignment. He felt a little bit like the guy in “Mission: Impossible” -
except that he didn’t have a choice of whether or not to accept it.
As expected, the door opened slowly as his mother stuck her head
in. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” she called. Skye glared at her,
conveying as much annoyance as a sleepy 13-year-old can.
“What do you want me to do today?” he asked, cringing inside from
the possibilities. Would it be the basement? The gutters? He looked at
his mom awaiting the response.

(more…)

We lived in a apartment complex in Timonium, a suburb of Baltimore,
where my best friend Brad lived just two buildings down. Brad was about
1 inch shorter than me, with blond hair and blue eyes, both of which were
accented by the golden glasses that he wore. He lived alternately with
his mother and his father, whose apartments were in the buildings facing
each other . Behind my building, which was at the bottom of a cul-de-sac,
were the “woods”, really just a strip of trees between the buildings and
the pool where his father was the manager .

Anyway, he was in 2nd grade and I was in 1st, but we were best friends
nonetheless. One day, we were playing in the playground next to my
building (also next to the woods), when he announced that he had to take
a leak. I had to as well, so I sidled up next to him and began to relieve
myself. In true little boy fashion, we had “pee battles,” where the
battle intensity was almost that of Luke Skywalker vs. Darth Vader :->.
Then he noticed my foreskin, of which he had none. This was my first
look at a circumcised penis, and vice versa.

(more…)

It was a brisk fall day in Johnstown, PA. The town could have been
another Pittsburgh: it was only 70 miles east of the now-larger city, but
at the turn of the century it was a more competitive city. In fact, it
was larger than Pittsburgh, and also had three rivers - the Stony Creek
and the Little Conemaugh, which came together to form the Conemaugh.
After nearly a century of steel mills and coal mines, the town was in the
grips of an economic depression, but no one complained. Gavin had moved
here from Baltimore, after having lived in another Maryland town, New
Jersey and New York City. He immediately took to the town and grew to
regard the tree-covered hills as his hometown.

He was 9 years old when they had moved to Johnstown, and after having
moved rather frequently beforehand, he was used to making quick friends.
Gavin had always been a tall child, and here he was no exception. He was
5′5″ in 5th grade, a coincidence which he always marveled at. Of mixed
northern European descent, his features were well-proportioned, some would
say cute, perfectly framed by his reddish-brown hair. Greenish-brown eyes
stared out at the world, taking in as much as his little brain would
permit. Physically and emotionally he was mature, getting his first pubic
hairs when he was only 10 years old, and having discovered masturbation
when he was 11. Being born abroad, he was uncircumcised, a feature of his
anatomy that he was not totally comfortable with. All through his
elementary years, he had noticed that he was not like most of the other
kids, and was embarrassed to be seen naked. As a general precaution
whenever there was a chance to be seen, he would retract the foreskin,
giving his penis a circumcised appearance.

(more…)

“Tom, are you asleep?” Jan whispered in the dark.

“Mmmm..” came Tom’s muted reply. He shifted restless in the bed.

Jan had known for a long time that Tom was just as awake as him, the shallow breathing and the shifting in the bed clearly told him so.

“I cannot sleep” Jan whispered.

“Neither can I.” Came Tom’s answer back to him.

“What time is it?” Tom asked out in the darkness.

“Almost three.” Tom’s face showed in the light from his watch as he pressed the light button.

“I keep thinking about the movie.” Jan whispered.

“Me too.”
(more…)

I met David on the Internet. I was cruising around for something exiting, and after looking at some pictures at a newsgroup, I went to an American chat room for gay youth. I knew from experience that sex was the usual topic there. I signed on with my usual nickname, Randy Peter, and very soon I got a request for private chat from one with the nickname David 13.

The chat was like usual on that site:

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“ASL?”

“14, boy, Peter,” was my answer to the classic question. “U?”

“13, boy, David.”

“Where are you?” He wanted to know.

“Sweden, u?”

“Miami. I’ve never chatted with anybody from Sweden before!”
(more…)

In the following I’ll try to give you an impression of Peter’s early experiences with sex. This is an all-true story, as it all have happened to me. I would be very happy to get comments. Write me on the adress davidi50@hotmail.com.

The first time Peter did something with a boy which was sex (not talking into consideration comparing sizes or see who could piss longest) Peter was eleven. His best friend introduced him by showing him how to masturbate.

It happened one night at the cabin to Peter’s parents where they all stayed for the Winter holidays. Peter had been allowed to bring a friend, so Lars stayed with them the whole holiday. Lars was one year older than Peter, and at least three years earlier in puberty. The stayed in the same room, in beds beside each other. The first night Peter heard strange noises in the dark from Lars’ bed, so he turned on the light. On the other bed Lars lay naked jacking off a rather big dick to be just 12 years old. Lars told Peter to turn off the light, which Peter did, but not before Lars had told him what he did, and why and how. Peter tried to do it on his own little prick that had got stiff in the meantime. But he could not get the foreskin behind the head on the dick. It was too tight. So Peter’ masturbation at this point was not very successful. But it was very exciting for him, and he persuaded Lars to tell him just before he cum (he had explained Peter all about that). And when Lars told him that now, now was the time, Peter turned on the light again and saw how a few gray drops spurted out of Lars’ prick. It was very fascinating.
(more…)

“Aw, Mom!” he tried. “Please!”

“No John. This you just have to do!”

“Please!” he tried again, a bit feebler now, as he recognized his mother’s no-nonsense-voice. This had already been decided, he clearly understood. But he could not give up without a fight.

“But mom! I was to go hiking with my friends!”

“I’m sorry John. But have to do this. You can go hiking with your friends another time.”

“But mom…”

“Listen John: The Rein family are you mom and dad’s best friends. When they ask us a favor like this, we say yes! Besides, Peter’s father is dad’s biggest client.”

“Yes, I know, but… Why cannot Peter be home alone for the weekend? He’s 14 and all. I was alone home when I was 14!”

“You know why John! After what Peter’s been through he cannot stay alone a whole weekend. You know what can happen if he gets one of his depressions.”
(more…)

I was fourteen years old when I spent three weeks on an international summercamp for boys down at the southern coast. There were boys from twenty different countries there, all from twelve to fifteen years old. It was great fun; I got a lot of new friends, and learned so much new.

I guess I was quite normal considering girls at that age, some kissing and some hugging, but no more. With boys I had it as most of my friends, we were bragging of all we in reality had not done, but fantasized about under the comforter at night. And sometimes we jacked off together at the house of one of us that was alone home.

I got a real good friend on the camp after only one week. That was Chris from New York. He was thirteen years old and black. He was the same height as me, and with dark almost glowing skin. He had lots of curly hair, big brown eyes, and a broad mouth. I had never had a black as a friend before, and I thought him both cute and exciting.
(more…)

I was 14 or so, and my parents were away somewhere. Without asking, they sent me along to an international summer camp down on the coast in the Oslo fjord.

It was a nice camp. Lots of things to do, swim, sailing, canoeing, table tennis and a lot of other sports. But best of all, lots of boys from Norway and US, in the ages from 12 to 14.

After just a few days at the camp I got really friendly with a boy from New Jersey, John. He was twelve years old, and a funny boy to be together with. We did lots of things, but in this story I will concentrate on a bit more special side of his activities.

He must have been very occupied with sex. He used to show himself to the other boys when they changed for swimming, and lots of the time he did that he had a hard on!
(more…)

I was thirteen years old that autumn. I was not doing well in mathematics, so my parents asked the seventeen-year-old son at the neighbors if he could help me. He did very well in mathematics in school, and since we already were good friends, it was OK for him. Chuck was a very nice boy, and I believe he thought likewise about me, so we had a really good relationship.

I had started growing down there that year, and the first hair had come round the root of my dick. I was very proud of it, as I was the first of my friends to grow hair. A couple of months before Chuck started teaching me, I had started to measure my dick when hard once every week, to keep track of the growing. The figures I wrote up on a calendar that I had on the wall in my room. In April I was three inches, in May just a bit more, in June I was three and a half inches, and now in September I was four and a half inches. It was very exciting, and it was so difficult to wait until Monday every week to measure it. I got hot by doing it, and it ended up each time with me jacking off.

When Chuck came into my room for the first lesson in mathematics, I saw that he noticed the calendar and the figures I had written on it, and he looked at me a funny way that day. A couple of days later he looked at the figures again, and asked me smiling what I was measuring. I’m sure he understood what it was, and blushing strongly I stuttered something about I could not tell him. Chuck smiled again and said that he was almost certain what it was, but did not say anymore about it that day.
(more…)

“Hi everybody! Here’s Radio Young again, the radio for young people with young people! I’m Tony and I will lead you through tonight’s special program about young people and sex. Last Thursday we did the program Girls and Sex, and I tell you, that was a smash! I’ve been swamped by mail from girls all over (and a lot of boys too) with comments. Seems like we got a real hit there. Today we will do Boys and Sex, and next week we give Boys and Girls and Sex.

But today, it’s Boys and Sex! And today I’ve got three boys with me here in our studio to help me explaining how it is to be a boy and do sex, right boys?”

“Yeah, right on!”

“OK, let me introduce you to the listeners. Let’s start with you Paul.”

“OK. My name is Paul, I’m twelve years old.”

“Is that all Paul?”

“Well, I go in the 6th grade, and I…. I”
(more…)