Your erotic stories

We had known each other all our lives, and had experienced enough adventures together to fill a book. Twelve years of school, Little League and building forts, and now that we were out of high school, we were heading our separate ways as we were bound for different colleges. Before Ken left for school, we made a point to spend a last few days together at a nearby resort town.

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When I was five years old, I met my soul mate. I didn't know what the term meant at the time. I only knew that this soul was a kindred spirit. He was my friend in all ways. The one person on Earth I couldn't disappoint no matter what. In him I found acceptance and companionship based on me myself and not out of a sense of familial responsibility. His name was Will. His was from a ranching family in the Texas panhandle.

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My story is about a day several months ago that changed my life forever. I am a 40-year-old single man who has been very successful in both my business and personal life. I have never been married, probably because I don't feel comfortable in long relationships. I have a very active sex drive and if I am not having it, I am thinking about it.

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I heard my name being called out from the midst of the teeming horde pressing in on the barriers after customs in New Delhi's Indira Gandhi international airport, and a head and arm waving a sign was bouncing up and down over the tumult. The sign the young man was carrying said "Clifford Jenkins" with "New York" written under it. That was me. But I wasn't being met by anyone that I knew of.

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Note: I don't consider myself to be gay and have never experienced any sexual contact with another man, although there is an appeal that seems to draw me. I admit that I have watched men masturbate via video chat and have done so myself once or twice, I found this exciting and exhilarating. Perhaps it's the thought of being in an erotic situation with a man for the first time that appeals to me whereas my sexual history has always been with women.

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After my surprising encounter with Arthur and Sandy, I went home to my wife, completely satisfied. She was sleeping as I slipped into bed. The next morning was a little hairy. "Morning hon," Carol said. "You worked late last night." "Mornin'," I grumbled. I was tired for lack of sleep. She came over and kissed me.

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My grandfather emigrated from Austria in 1919. He had four sisters, but he was the only boy. He married my grandmother in 1940. Unable for whatever reason to have children of their own, they eventually adopted a girl (Mary) and a boy (Peter), and each of them in turn had a boy (John Mark for Mary; Matthew (me) for Peter) and a girl (Elizabeth for Mary; Joan (my sister) for Peter).

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Alone. For the first time he could think of in a long time, Brian was alone. Since it was a long weekend his wife, Teresa, and their baby daughter had gone to visit relatives in Michigan. And Brian was alone. He was in his late twenties and recently discharged from the Army after eight years of service. Army life was OK, but Brian didn't want to make a career of it.

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He was restless, tired and content as he watched her through her bedroom window; his place in the tree gave him the perfect view. She had gone to bed about twenty minutes ago, he stood in the tree waiting. Forcing his eyes away as she changed in her near dark room, he wasn't a pervert or like the rest of them.

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This was just a temporary gig, but they'd stuffed Karl into a dark green coverall with the Army logo plastered on the sleeve. It wasn't really that much different than his flightsuit but the colour and texture was all wrong and it just didn't feel right wearing some grease-monkey's gear instead of his own. There was nothing he could do about it, though—Army was big on uniforms.

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