Your erotic stories

I had been working temporarily in the DC area near the Pentagon for a few weeks. While there is an excellent mass transit system in the city, the apartment I was living in was far enough away from the Metro stations that it would take almost as much time commuting to the nearest station as it took me to go ahead and drive into work.

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Billy Olsen's life back in 1966 was no bed of roses, having been sick for much of his teenage years, and even after pretty much recovering from rheumatic fever Billy's overbearing mother insisted he stayed in the house most of the time, studying and reading.

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I'm a 32-year old male, happily married, with a very satisfying sex life. When my wife and I are in bed together, we entertain each other with stories—fantasies and otherwise—about sexual escapades. We consider sharing fantasies to be nothing more than foreplay even though some of our ideas get pretty wild. I get turned on imagining watching her getting thoroughly screwed by someone and my description of such an affair turns her on, too.

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Will paced back and forth in his dressing room as he recited the lines over and over to himself. Tomorrow was the first day of shooting; the first day he had to make a whole audience of people believe he was gay. It's not that he had anything against gays, or that he felt like he was above them, but he had a sort of disconnect, and wondered if this role was beyond his talents. He sat down at his table, in front of the mirror, and stared at his very blond hair. It was quite a different look for him, and he wasn't entirely sure it suited him.

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I hadn't seen my cousin Ken in almost five years. We sort of lost touch after high school and college. Now here he was arriving at my door. Ken was tall and thin with black hair. I could see he had been working out, as he looked fit. We talked briefly and then we went out for dinner and some drinks. We got caught on our family and friends and then we came back to my place.

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My wife and I had a fight and she went to her mother's. I enjoyed the freedom for a couple of weeks, but I was missing sex, having been used to getting it almost daily. I thought of picking up a slut at a bar, but then I remembered having had a brief experience with another guy in high school, several years ago. At 35 years old I wondered why such a memory would return to me after all these years.

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Brad had left for college 2 weeks ago and I had settled into my job at a local restaurant. I worked in the kitchen preparing food for the cooks. It was a typical go nowhere boring dead end job but I needed the money. I became friends with a waiter named Jeff who seemed like an okay guy. 

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Aidan studied himself critically in the full-length mirror. He had inherited from his much-missed mother high cheek-bones, fine bone structure full, pouting lips and a slender physique. Raising his arms he performed a slow pirouette. There was only the lightest of dusting of hair under his arms. His body was smooth, his chest adorned with two large chocolate discs which haloed caramel nipples. A few dark wisps led from his navel to a modest nest that framed his sex.

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On this particular night I had decided to step inside a café. Not one of those trendy ones with surly employees and background music more suitable for night-clubs, but one with a warm and friendly, relaxed atmosphere that smelled of cinnamon. Just the kind I like. Sometimes I almost felt like one of them, sitting there and sharing that warmth. It was a soothing feeling but it always faded quickly. I am not of their kind, and I don't have much in common with most of my own kind, either. It's lonely. I didn't like it, but I didn't complain either. I'd gotten used to it.

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"Hey Rob, wanna come with me to the gym tonight?" Leo's question in the phone surprised me a bit, but on the other hand, I had nothing better to do. "Sure, why not," I replied. "I'll just grab my things and meet you there." Twenty minutes later we stood in the locker room. Leo was already in his workout outfit - loose black pants, a tight white sleeveless shirt and fancy indoor sneakers - when I walked into the room.

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