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Forum Category: Erotic Stories
 Originator Date Posted 
   Boys will do Boys. Warning: Boy-Boy sex.  

5/9/2009 06:27
Date Posted: 5/9/2009 06:27
   This is a Boy-Boy, gay, homoerotic story. Read at you own risk! It's also fairly long, and a two parter. Ha!

It started with an ad, on an online board: “Seeking a friend to hang out with and show me some of the sights. In Austria for the month, arriving the first and leaving the thirtieth. Would like someone who knows the cities and wants to guide. Me: Asian, Middle Eastern mix, professional, 30, slim and slight.”

It was in the Men for Men section, so there was little doubt about what sort of person they were seeking, or what sort of inclination they had. The ad certainly wasn’t the usual “hook up and screw” ad, which is what drew my attention. Here, well, you don’t see many ads in the first place, and those you do see are generally “At the airport tonight” sorts. Not my cup of tea, as it were.

An email, which led to another email response, which led to several more emails. An exchange of phone numbers. Then, a somewhat unexpected phone call in the morning.

Well, Sabir, as I found out his name was, was completely new to Europe. His work keeps him in Asia more than anything else. He didn’t sound much like I expected, but, I’ll admit, he sounded interesting. He said he was an interior designer, a contract worker who happened to have a month or so before his next contract. The economy, he had said with a laugh. Very tanned, was his personal description, with plenty of Indian. A goatee, which he was debating keeping or losing.

A date set.

I arrived, as is my tendency, a little early. He was unfamiliar with the city, and the country, and spoke very, very little German. One of the reasons we had decided to meet close to his place, staying with friends while in town, was because the public system can be confusing if you don’t speak the language. I found him outside the Konditorei (nice pastry shop).

I was impressed. I tend to be attracted to smaller men, feminine but not girlie. When he had mentioned his build on the phone, he had not exaggerated. He was right at 5’6”, and maybe all of 130 pounds. He was slight, meaning built more like an Asian man than a country boy like me. Very thick black hair, with some curls, a mocha complexion, dark eyes and a pretty face.

His eyes were marvelous, and expressive and I liked the way he looked right at me. One of the marvels of men who enjoy men is that they make eye contact, they hold eye contact. Someone once said “eye fucking”, as a way to describe it. That may be, and I’m sure some people get it, but very few men that are not leaning towards Bi, at least, ever know how to play it. Some women do, but it’s sensual and raw in a way that nobody else sees.

We shook hands, previous understanding being we were both open about our inclination, but there was no need to advertise it. No feather boas, no tongue wrestling in public. He had small hands, or at least small compared to mine. They were warm though, another thing I have found to be interesting among gay and Bi men. It’s almost as though their metabolism runs differently.

The handshake was masculine, but the way he held my hand in it was definitely soft and friendly. In reality, this was already working it’s way to see if we were compatible, to see if there would be any need to even ask later. Our intent was to see the city, my trying to be the guide and handle some of the more intricate linguistics, but if we clicked, well…

Coffee and a few small pastries. We sat and enjoyed what had turned out to be a very beautiful day, even if he said it was a lot cooler than he was used to. He was still recovering from jet lag, and I know what that’s like. Still, he was animated, it was obvious he not only like his job, but I can imagine him being good at selling his services. He made you want to turn him loose and show you what could be done with your space.

An hour in small talk, coffee, and then we strolled to where you could really start sightseeing. There’s no shortage of sights in Austria, most especially in the major cities. He was most interested in much of the architecture, apparently part of his studies. What I didn’t know (what a lot that is) I referred to guides and a city handbook I have had for some time. It really was like a tour. I was thoroughly enjoying it, and his company was like a real friend, convenient and appreciative.

Dinner was in one of the open air spaces. Good food, which is easy to come by, which was made all the better by a glass of bier. The whole day had been enjoyable, and honestly, all part of a game. It had been something like a courtship, the way we had interacted. At first, very cautious, like people who were really meeting for the first time with nothing in common. As the day wore on, though, there were subtle hints, long looks, jokes.

Sitting on a park bench, overlooking a statue to a very famous composer for which entire public buildings are dedicated, there had been a moment when I’d told him he was a very attractive man. Just there, under the soft sunshine, it had been a moment. His quick grin, and not bashful but still shy gestures. Across the square, chances are no one would have even paid attention.

Walking away from a church, architecture appreciation, he’d put one hand on my shoulder, a friendly gesture, but it had lingered just a moment. He had squeezed, almost massaged my upper arm, unlike the football pats that “men” share. On a bus, not quite as crowded as we made it seem, standing close enough that a leg, an arm, happened to brush into the other.

It was flirting. It was covert assessment of each other. Now, over dinner, with some light still hanging in the background but a sumptuous meal almost gone, the coyness was starting to recede. Now, someone watching would have noticed that we held each other’s gaze less like two men out for the afternoon and more like two people finding commonality. You would have to look, and watch, but it was there.

The check left, coffee and dessert (Salzburgerknockereln) far gone. The most overt sign had been that when the whipped egg-white creation had been served, he had given a very direct look as he ate.

“So, did you enjoy today?” I asked, fairly certain I knew the answer.

“It was great! I had put the ad in hoping to find someone free during the week. Otherwise, I was just sitting around.” His accent was heavy, but far better than my Cantonese.

“Well, it’s nice to meet someone to spend the time with. I’m glad you decided to meet with me. It’s much better with a friend.” We were still playing eye games.

“Let’s go back to my hotel, I can think of some ways to make this the perfect night.” He was, direct. I guess I had been worth the time.

He had a nice room, even with a small sitting area. That’s pretty rare unless you spend a fortune in Austria’s bigger cities.

Just inside, we shared our first kiss. One of those long, soft kisses that tell you there’s no hurry. The sort where you hold each other’s heads, caressing cheeks, exploring a little of the back and shoulders. Exploratory, a perfect word for it. There’s no hurry to get to the bed, no tearing off of clothes.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and tugged it out of his slacks. I enjoyed touching his skin, which was dark and smooth. His chest was flat, and his stomach, very little padding. When I brushed a hand over his chest, he smiled and sighed. He shook the shirt off and we kissed again…

If you have stuck in there this long, tune in tomorrow for the ending. I can only type so much at once ;-)

I promise, it starts moving, um, pretty fast, from here.

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