Your erotic stories

I discovered my neighborhood ABS when I was 18 years old, still living with my folks. My body was hairless; I was a tightly muscled but thin kid all of 5'6", and just 125 pounds. Anyway, every week or two, for the couple of years, I would sneak out with some excuse, and walk down the street to the XXX store there in Cocoa Beach. I still remember the feeling that would come over me. It was like my whole body was buzzing in anticipation.

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"You're on your way home, Sir? Now?" "I am." Hal bit his bottom lip. Shoot, shoot, shoot. He hadn't planned anything for dinner. "How long until you get here?" Mac drove one-handed down their street, other hand holding his cell. "Actually, I'm about to pull in the drive."

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I slid off my heavy backpack in the shade of a stand of Lodgepole Pine. It was 1980, the summer after I graduated from college. I had put life on hold to hike the Colorado Trail. I had no attachments, no appointments to keep, no place I had to be but on the trail and in the moment.

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It was a Wednesday night, which was two for one rental night at the local adult video store. I picked out a couple of European titles from my favorite director. His films usually featured exotic locales, stunning eastern European babes, and lots of anal. I brought the empty cases up to the till, and the clerk moved over to the drawer where the actual DVDs were stored and retrieved them. I completed the transaction in the usual fashion; minimal words, averted gaze, the slightest tinge of embarrassment for being in the shop in the first place. 

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I breathed on my new chromed nametag and polished it on my sleeve. I had been promoted: Sergeant Lincoln Lovel. I attached it to my blue uniform shirt, checked myself out one more time in the mirror, and walked outside to the police car in my driveway. Life is good. My utility belt gleamed, newly polished; my buttons all glittered; even my service pistol shone like it was gold-plated. And I had sergeant's stripes on my sleeves!

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I'd struck out again. It was Friday night and after happy hour with some friends from work, I'd gone to a local club in search of hooking up with a cutie. As had become my fate lately, I had no takers and was gonna be left to feed the hog alone again. I'm a decent looking guy, with a good job, and what I'd always considered to be an OK personality, but my luck with the ladies had been miserable for several months.

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For those who read my first story, "Giving it Up," this is the lead in. These events were my first excursion into the dark side of my sexuality. If you have read the previous story you will know that I was a virgin when it happened just a couple of years ago. What happens in this current story, over 20 years ago, is all true until the end. There is one point where fantasy takes over when reality ends.

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Several months after I had parted from Jeff and a few weeks after my experience with Lionel (recounted in Chapter 15) three things happened virtually simultaneously. Firstly my wife, in a regular phone call with our daughter, told her that her lover was ill and being taken to hospital. I was not sorry for him, indeed I hoped that he would soon be dead, but I was sorry to think of the anxiety it would cause her. The second thing that happened gave me a shock.

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"Curtis, your 10 minutes late.... Detention." The entire classroom laughed and ohhed at Curtis like a bunch of elementary students. He just turned 18 and this was his junior year at this school after being kicked out two previous schools for bad behavior. Being 18 also scared the younger kids away from him but it also made him cooler by the kids who were just as bad as he was.

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I had just got back from work on a Friday. Brandon was already back at our apartment. He hugged me once I walked in. Since we're just room mates, I wasn't comfortable with it at first, but over time I got used to it. It's not much of a big deal for me anymore. It's sort of the kind of guy he is. We got along pretty well and had been living together for about five months now.

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