Your erotic stories

"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?" "Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ." "No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope." "Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

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I got home late one night from my usual cardio session at the gym. Working out had got me sweaty and horny, so I raced home, glancing to be sure the DVD was still on the passenger seat, something I had grabbed from the gay section at the porn shop I worked at, before leaving for the day.

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The year was 1984. South Africa wasn't a happy place. I was in the army for my two years of national service. My name is Ben, and I was gay and out, unusually, as my lover and I were activists. Well, I was an activist-wannabe, since I should really have conscientiously objected to National Service, as others had, and endured the prison sentence, but I guess that I didn't have quite enough of a problem with the white "regime" to risk that extreme form of conscience.

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As most the guys stood around looking at the screen Errol stood beside Dre with a looks of dismay. He said sipping on his drink as Dre watched the enjoyment the others seem to be getting out of the video. Errol went back to tending to the bar as he patted Dre on the back and smiled at him. “Incoming.” He said with a smile as Dre looked at him oddly before turning to look back.

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I took a cold Coke out of the plastic cooler. It was Friday afternoon in the southwestern desert, and I was alone in the company training area finishing up the paperwork. The younger sergeants had left long ago, heading for cold beer, air conditioning, and the NCO club if not some bar downtown.

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"Wash up, lazybones, and take those furs to Sir Charles," the tanner ordered. The day's chill turned his breath to a liquor-laden mist. "Sir Charles, Father?" Tanners asked, confused. The tanner rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Oh ye gods, why curse me with such a stupid boy?" He turned to the young man. "The banker, the one whose son you don't like. He's offered three gold for the lot."

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It had been the week from hell. The boss had been on his tail all week, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong and, to top it all, head office had sent through a memo late on Friday afternoon stating that there were to be cut backs across the board and that staff would be losing their jobs.

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As usual, I have given you very little notice before I can come over. Always a gentleman, you usher me into your house and offer me a drink. We head to the family room to chat awhile. But we both know why I'm here.

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Some times, we go places we didn't intend to go, but are happy to get there when we do. That is certainly true with the way my wife and I developed sexually. We married after she graduated from college. I was two years ahead of her. I graduated and moved about 30 minutes away to my first job. We saw each other each weekend and also during the week. Sex was a priority then. I really liked sex with her. We would spend a lot of time naked. I liked that.

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