Your erotic stories

It was Friday night and the phone rang. I picked it up and was surprised to hear that it was my wife's therapist. I knew about him, of course, but had never met or even spoken to him. He knew Sue was out of town for the week, so I was really caught off guard, and immediately worried by his call.

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As a psychology major, it never ceases to surprise me how deep human loathing can go. Often times the most screwed up ones are ourselves. For every ten people that you meet, eight hate everyone, six hate themselves, but blame everyone else, three loathe themselves with depths unfathomable, and one or two out of those ten will never let you know just how disturbed they really are.

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It's been a long, difficult day. The world has been uncooperative, as per usual. One of those days where nothing goes as planned. People specifically. People are the worst, once again, as per usual. Although now, finally, you're standing on the front step. A little sigh of relief escapes your lips, being able to let your guard from the world down a little bit.

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Karl stared at the phone in his hand after flipping it closed. "Well this might be an interesting trip home after all," was the statement he made to the air in his empty living room. He had just finished up a three hour long, catch-up conversation with someone from his past. Someone he had shared more than just a dorm room and later a frat house double with at college. Much more. Much, much more.

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Several years ago I was a COP, a policeman in a city of about 250,000 in North Carolina. The DWI Checkpoints and enforcement had just started to gain popularity. One part of that program was to assign officers to work the streets on DWI Patrol, rather than checkpoints. We were assigned to different sections of the city or to watch a particular bar or nightclub.

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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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Most weekends I go down to Hong Kong – I've got a "Fuck Buddy" there who's also into piss play. He's a very hot flight attendant and Asian like me. We're not exclusive – both of us play with others and I'm also in a long term relationship back home (Australia).

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I remember the first time I ever thought of being of receiving anal. It was 1973 and I was laying in bed with my girlfriend at the time. We had just had sex and I asked her about having anal sex. She laughed and asked me how I would feel about having someone shove a big cock up my ass. I told her that I didn't think that anyone would be interested in fucking my ass and she blurted out that Roy probably would.

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I made it through the week, not an inconsequential accomplishment in that strange year so long ago. 

I made it through Saturday, too. I wrote a little and did laundry and got some physical activity to try to take the edge off the tension I felt rising within me. I was horny and on a whim, I called up the web site of the Washington Blade, the local gay paper. I scanned the ads, and thought back to how things had been when i was just entering middle age.

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I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate.

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