Your erotic stories

About two years ago, while working for the space agency, I was sent to a one week training/workshop in Huntsville, Alabama. I stayed at a hotel within walking distance of the Marshall Space Flight Center, where the workshop was to be held. There were about 75 people there, composed primarily of engineers, technicians, research scientists, a few administrators, and some military personnel.

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If there's one thing I hate more than school in summertime it's job hunting. I fully admit I'm not the best at interviews, I get nervous, I get anxious, even when it's not really a job I even want I still have an uncanny knack of blowing it. I'd been looking around for something other than mind numbing temp work for sometime but hadn't had much success. Not being in my own country didn't help my prospects either.

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One must love road trips. I know I do. Fate also has the most amazing way of showing you that even though you have it all figured out, there are certain things which can occur that are beyond even your wildest fantasy. I was driving down the road, coming home from a particularly horrible day at work. In the hazy mist of a cruel evening, something jumped in front of my Accord. I swerved to avoid it, which luckily I did, but managed to hit something else that was in the road.

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Like many gay men I know, I questioned my sexuality in silence for a very long time. On countless occasions I had sat in my room and fantasized about what it would be like to be with another man, but I had never had the courage to do anything about it or even try and find others who felt the same way I did. After all, where would I look? I was too timid to venture into the bars, and was too afraid that someone would discover my dark secret.

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It was a beautiful warm sunny day -- well, hot actually -- though the stiff on-shore breeze blowing up from the south made the heat tolerable. Otherwise, it was a perfect day for sailing. I sat at the wheel of my sailboat, named Felicity, which my wife, Karen, always insisted on calling a "yacht" because it was just over thirty feet in length. Karen wasn't on board with me. At the last minute on Friday, her boss had asked Karen to fly to Boston for a crucial project and he needed Karen to meet with the proposal team early Sunday -- today -- so she'd flown out last evening.

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Erica Cranston sits on the exam table across from Dr. David Madison in the room, nothing between them. The door is closed. Her knees part wavering nervously. He sits on a low stool, legs crossed, one hand holding his chin as he listens. She's used to the conversation now. This is not the first she has met with.

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I’m going to tell you a little story now but first you have to promise me one thing. This has to stay just between us friends ok? I mean I wouldn’t want this spread all over town or anything, know what I mean? Or, God forbid, put out on the Internet or something. So mum’s the word ok? Ok!

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It was the Friday night before... She woke to silence, everyone in the house was asleep. Unable to get back to sleep she got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get something cold to drink. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and as she sipped it she noticed a light coming from underneath the door to the den. After drinking the orange juice she set the glass in the kitchen sink and walked slowly toward the light. Not wanting to wake anyone she decided to slowly turn the door knob and peek in. As the door opened she could see him sitting at his desk working at his computer.

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Becky bends over, leans into Paul's ear. "It's stuffy in here," she says. "Let's go for a walk." Paul looks up and watches her retreat around the coffee table. He pardons himself to his two bookend sofa-mates – the gregarious Auntie Lou and the diametric Grandma Claire, a stick with permanently down-turned lips and hardened scowl. Paul is relieved to escape her still life painting.

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Who knows what I was thinking. It was a Saturday night and Valentine’s day at that. My current lover was out of town and I was bored. So I went down to my fave little restaurant to chat with the bartender I knew, see some old acquaintances and just relax.

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