Your erotic stories

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. ***** Derek Boudreaux checked his mailbox. Three banks down, one of the numerous tenants that lived in the apartment complex likewise checked their mailbox. Derek had tried once to engage the neighbor in conversation. The neighbor had claimed not to speak English. He then glared at Derek when Derek answered him in fluent Spanish.

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I had literally creamed myself almost nightly for Phil's body, but Phil was about as straight as they come—and getting all the female tail he could handle if all the talk around campus was true. We were both attending the university on athletic scholarships—Phil on a football and baseball scholarship and me on a wrestling scholarship, wrestling being a good way for me to get down and dirty with other hot, sweating, muscular dudes.

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All characters are over 18 years old. * Tom was like a father to me, and being more than twice my age that was understandable. He was always there when I needed help or guidance. Never overbearing, but always available when I needed him most. He gave me advice when I asked for it and an ear when I needed to vent or just talk.

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It was a slow night at Iron Works Gym. Outside the rain pounded the parking lot and washed away the remnants of what had been another routine day. Another routine day in a long, line of routine days. There were only a few guys working out that night and we were all scattered into our own workout zones. The clanking of plates drowned out the music the gym played but no one seemed to care. Most of the guys in the gym that night were listening to their own tunes on their Ipods and in 'the zone.'

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Going to try for a long chapter after this one. The events I've written for now aren't really conducive to length without getting overly tedious. Thanks to those people who submitted comments. I really appreciate the input. Lastly, I've been told my transition between perspectives could use a little work, so any tips or suggestions there would be phenomenal.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well. Everyone wanted to get to know me—to get close to me.

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This is a story concerning gay males, classified within the Gay Male section. If you don't like or might even be offended by reading stories involving male homosexual activity, you should not read this story. * Jonathan and James had been good friends for quite a long time. Really, just about as long as they could remember.

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I was standing over my father's grave at Sunnycrest Cemetery as the cleric spouted empty words and prayers, and as my mother wept crocodile tears into her lace hankie. "Be strong, Lucinda," said my Great Aunt Martha, patting my mother's shoulder. Aunt Martha was my father's mother's sister.

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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong === I arrived at my office the next day to find an envelope on my desk with my name written on it in neat, if rather florid, handwriting. It read "Robert" which was slightly odd because everyone at work calls me Rob.

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I just had finished my work out. I'm 46, married with three children. I took off my clothes and headed to the shower to get rid of the sweat. When I opened the door there was no one but a boy, 18 at most. I had seen him before cause he visited, as I do, the gym every Wednesday. I couldn't help but to shoot a quick glance at his youthful cock and then took the shower right opposite his.

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