We met at university about 6 years ago. He was 'straight' at first but we became really close friends. He knew I crushed on him hard but would insist he was straight and nothing would ever happen. Well my previous two crushes both said that and both turned out gay (though nothing sexual ever happened between me and either of them) so that didn't deter me. I was quite bad in that I would manufacture situations to keep us close because I liked him so much. If we went out clubbing with our friends I would 'lose' my key so I had nowhere to stay. I'd end up staying around his house like 70% of nights out and we would sometimes spoon and cuddle. I remember one time he was very drunk and rolled over on top of me, but flung himself over me so hard that he carried on over to the floor and fell on a plate. I think that was the first time I thought he might be curious because why else would he be trying to climb on top of me? Unfortunately he just fell asleep on the floor and didn't remember anything the next day. He spent the rest of the year flirting with girls, he was a real ladies man. He had like 15 girls all over him for the whole year but didn't have sex with any of them. That was probably another clue I should have picked up on (although I was a cock block on more than one occasion).
That was the first year of uni, the second wasn't so great because he decided not to move in to a house with me and our friends so we argued a lot, didn't see eachother as much. We developed this really strange relationship where we agreed not to see other people, but we weren't seeing eachother either as he was still pretending to be straight. That year was pretty uneventful besides a lot of anguished texts from me crying about wanting to see him and being jealous of his new friends. We both dropped out of university together that year though and decided to rent a house together.
So we moved into a house in the same city, that was OK for a while because though we weren't sexing I had him all to myself. I think that situation reached its limit where he asked me to do an essay for him (we joined the Open University to study from home). I said I would do it if he let me suck his dick and he agreed. So I did the essay and then I chickened out of sucking his dick (I was a nervous lil virgin), but he forced it in to my mouth for 10 seconds. After that point I decided I couldn't live with him anymore because I was in love and he wouldn't fuck me.
So I moved home to my mums house which gave him the kick up the arse he needed to realise he loved me too. We then spent the next year hooking up in hotels around the country, had all the most amazing sex and the best times. I remember one time, before I had ever cum in front of him (I was still thinking he was 'straight' but gay for me), we were lying in bed naked and he was stroking my whole body with his fingertips and it was the first time another guy had touched me, it still gives my goosebumps to think about.
That was the honeymoon period. Since then we've moved in together again and things could be better. I still love him but have begun to feel like we're at different stages in life and maybe just incompatible. I'm much more serious about my career and future than he is, and though our sex is really good, I've been having depressing thoughts about never being able to play the field or do some of the sleazier/kinkier things that turn me on.