Your erotic stories

To bow. To worship. To breed. These are the notes of his symphony, his soul's hunger. 

His eyes dart from body to body, evaluating, finding nothing of either sustenance or substance. 

In his emptiness, I sense his desperation for my religion. He seeks a fane with an altar of leather and chains. Here is not that temple. 

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It was about 3 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon, and everybody was winding down at work. Another long day inside a gray glass and steel skyscraper. My boss stopped by and looked at the paltry pile in my inbox and suggested I take the rest of the day off. Big deal, two extra hours. I had to wait for the train after 5 anyway. Two hours to kill. What to do? I wandered out into the street, slipped into a bookstore for a few minutes and then walked towards the train station. Then I remembered the massage parlor.

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"I think he's signaling to you, sugar." I'd stopped to talk to the two guys who regularly positioned themselves at the corner of 4th Street Northwest in Albuquerque and the alley in which I temporarily resided in a cardboard carton. I hadn't been there long following a relocation from Las Vegas and, although I'd found some work as a gofer on a high-rise construction project downtown, I didn't have near enough funds yet to rent a room—or even to have three squares a day.

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"What's the matter with you guys? You got lead in your ass? We're never going to win a goddamn thing if you don't pick up your game! Tom was screaming at the football team as they practiced for the upcoming game. His red hair glinted in the bright sunlight so that his head seemed on fire, matching his fiery temper. Most of the team looked sheepishly at me, knowing this was not their day.

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We had all gone away for a month, us six guys: Ray, Mike, John, Matthew, Paul and myself. It was supposed to be a bonding thing. We were in the heart of the countryside, staying in Paul's family's holiday home. It was miles from anywhere and it was going to be our last group outing together before Ray got married.

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I found one way to connect with other men looking for some fun was on chat lines on the phone. There were a few that were free although many charged for the service and you could get on and find others interested in the same thing you were interested in. The particular time I'm thinking about started off as many of them did with me getting an invitation to talk with another guy about what it was we were looking for. During the course of the first few minutes it became clear that he was looking for a man to come over and give him a blow job.

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His name was Roland and he was from Jamaica. I'm guessing he was about 30. He had deep ochre skin, eyes that were almost black, closely-cropped hair, and was tall, lean and very graceful. At one point in his life he'd been a dancer, but was now a set designer for one of the larger theater companies in Amsterdam. He was just a little bit effeminate, and overtly gay.

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Author's Note: In Icelandic folklore, there are many tales of huldufolk—the hidden people. One tells of ljuflingur, huldumen known to seduce and impregnate human women ('ljuflingur' means 'beloved' in Icelandic). Many thanks to mac ropis for the thoughtful comments, spelling/grammar check, and insightful questions! Volunteer Editors are the best idea since oral sex.

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My family moved from Ohio to California when I was in High School. I instantly fell in love with California and enjoyed the opportunity to play outdoor sports year round. I excelled in baseball and swimming. We lived close to the beach to, so I learned how to surf pretty good. As the years went by I developed many great friends and was fairly popular. I missed some of my friends in Ohio but that's about it. 

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I do wonder though, sometimes, how I think of myself, it's a pleasant sort of curiousness. Am I a gay man who has a girlfriend? A straight man who has been with other men? As more one way than the other? As someone who declines to identify that firmly? Adjectives, not nouns.

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