Your erotic stories

The two caretakers stood, resting under the shade of a beautiful oak tree. The cemetery was completely empty, save for them, and one lone visitor who came most every day. "There he is again," the younger of the two said. "Yeah. That was his best friend you know. They played the game back in thirty-eight," the older one replied.

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It all started over a letter. A simple piece of paper with a college header addressed from far, faraway. A letter from some fancy professor that would change everything Dane knew. It meant that Kobe was leaving soon and there was nothing Dane could about it, the letter proof of his best friend's decision to go to school.

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I could not believe it. The woman behind the front desk told me again, "We are sorry sir, but we have no reservation for you and the hotel is completely booked for the whole week because of the meetings and retreat for a major financial institution." "I know!" I said. "I am supposed to attend those meetings and participate in the retreat! Please, help me out here."

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Jack Barker watched his girlfriend's son go into the garage, and after making sure that his soon-to-be wife was in the bathroom, went out the back door and toward the garage. Jack had just moved into the modest old farmhouse a couple of days ago, although he had spent a lot of time there in the year he had been courting Alice Randolph.

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I rolled back over and surveyed the body stretched out beside me. He was lying on his back, panting slightly, his legs still spread and knees bent. The pillow not yet out from underneath the small of his back. He gave me a wan smile, wrapped a hand around my neck, and drew me in for a kiss, barely giving me time to take the joint from my mouth that I had turned to take a drag from. We shared the smoke from the reefer in the kiss.

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I was a late bloomer when I was a kid, a total nerd. I didn't start masturbating until I was nearly 18 and was afraid to ask a girl out for fear of rejection. I had been on one "blind date" of sorts and it had been a total disaster.

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Christ, I can't believe it was that long ago, already...seems like yesterday. OK, let me elaborate. It was a Friday afternoon, and I got a phone call from an acquaintance, asking if I wanted to check out a concert that night, in a city a couple of hours away from here. I was up for it; I was just finishing off the last of my dissertation, and could use a break. I told her I'd meet her at a coffee shop near the venue.

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I strolled through the local park, one warm April evening. It was just getting dark, and the path was clear in front of me. There was enough light for me to finish my circle and head for home. I usually jogged for exercise, or took a trip to the gym, and it showed. But I enjoyed a pleasant walk as well.

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About a month after my first encounter with a man I decided to try my luck again. This was way back in 1966 when the gay movement was unheard of and in fact I never knew another guy in my entire school time that admitted to being with a man. Being called a cock sucker was about the worst thing you could be called. In spite of this when I had become aware of the notes written on the stalls and walls of the local city hall bathroom offering or wanting blowjobs it had intrigued me and turned me on.

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This happened when I was in college and shared a duplex with a friend and fellow student at the beach. It was summertime and we both worked at a hot-spot bar at the beach. It was a great summer. We spent our days at the beach and nights working at a place where it didn't even seem like working sometimes. It was the 70s when disco was hot, and the place was crawling with girls down for the week from Ohio and New Jersey. They just wanted to drink and get laid and we were happy to accommodate.

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