Your erotic stories

What a neat idea, Ted thought. He'd been down Lexington a couple of times a week all semester from his room to his classes at the university and he hadn't even noticed the Chance Café, down on the lower level under a hippy New Age gear store.

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Carl is the type of black man that white women fantasize about having sex with. He's tall, muscular, very dark skinned, 36 years old with a shaved head and strong African features. I am a tall, slim 48 year old white guy who looks much younger than his age. I met Carl while playing on a local softball team. We quickly became friends and fell into the habit of spending Saturday nights together when neither of us had dates. He would come to my house and we would order pizza and drink beer.

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I watched as Dee slipped a short bright red dress over her head and pulled it down her body. She sat down next to me and pulled on her matching high heel shoes. She turned to me and lightly kissed me with her full lips. "I'm ready to go." she said and stood up.

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My prolonged good-bye began on the first day of summer. That wasn't the day of the accident. That had happened two days before. But it wasn't until the first day of summer that the doctors came into my hospital room to tell me that Jamal would recover but might be paralyzed for life from the waist down because of the injury to his back.

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It was the last summer before I graduated in the fall from college and I found a job with one of the larger apartment complexes near the campus. In exchange for rent and a small wage I did minor maintenance on the units. I did a lot of filter replacements, minor plumbing and other type things that were a constant headache for the manager.

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Today's technology can make one a little paranoid. I'm well known in my rather conservative community and the last thing I would need would be for people to find out about my fantasies. Like many people, I have a phone, a tablet, a laptop, etc. and I connect to my work network from home frequently. Lately, I'd become somewhat obsessed about my internet trail and fearing my browsing history being discovered inadvertently through some virus, cookies or some other thing of which I was unaware.

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[This story can be read on its own, but it continues the story of Jonathan and David into the next generation. All institutions and characters in the story are purely imaginary.] * Chapter 1 Early years One of my earliest memories is when I was about six years old being taken for a walk by Uncle Arthur Rockwell in the wood that he and my cofather had planted at Ixton some eight or so years before.

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This is a true story, as told to me by a friend. I'm a New York cab driver. Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's a living. Yeah, I've been held up. Twice. But life goes on, right? Boring. Or at least until that fare opened the door and climbed into my cab. Brown skin, black hair. Hispanic, right? In New York, probably Puerto Rican. But his eyes. God! Blue, astonishing blue. Made me think of a raging river. Deep blue. Dark. Dangerous blue. His mama must have fooled around with a Norwegian tourist.

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First, let me start by laying down a little bit of my background. My name is Joe. I am 6’3”, 220 lbs, brown hair and blue eyes. I am married and consider myself straight. I have had a few homosexual experiences in the past, but they were with my best friend who is a long distance truck driver. My previous gay experiences were monogamous with my friend and are still completely secret.

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I was walking around the pond by my house. The sun was shining and it was a very hot day. As I came over the bridge I noticed my school's soccer team was practicing at the soccer fields. There were about 25 of them , all hot and sweaty. But I only cared about one of them. Jason Little was running across the field to get a drink of water as I sat down on one of the metal bleachers. I pretended to text one of my friends but I was really eyeing his perfectly rounded ass.

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