Your erotic stories

Note: Your comments or constructive criticism mean a lot to me. Feel free to leave me a private message if you'd like to share your thoughts, get updates on future chapters or receive a personalized photo of my cock. Statement of veracity: This is a true story. Well, everything up to the break point. I'll leave it to you to guess which of these is the full true story.

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Paolo softly nibbles Alessio's earlobe while stroking his bare chest at the same time. His nimble fingers play with his nipples, now erect due to his soft touch; he pinches them, causing a shiver that becomes more intense when he feels the warm breath of his boyfriend on the back of his neck. He sighs contently, closing his eyes while his boyfriend covers his nape with kisses.

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My first attempt at gay erotica and completely fictional. Hope you enjoy. I was only halfway through my first semester at college and already couldn't stand anymore of my obnoxious, slovenly constantly partying suitemates. Believe it or not, I came to college to actually get an education and I was tired of having to do all my studying at the library.

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1971 had me as a freshman in college a couple thousand miles away from home. I was often lonely, homesick and not very cautious when it came to looking for affection. Fortunately for me I lived a very charmed life and was very lucky, so most of my "indiscretions" had happy endings.

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It was a hot afternoon and I was in the backyard vacuuming the pool. My naked body glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and my rigid cock stood proudly out in front of me, my smooth balls swaying as I worked. I estimated I had about ten minutes to go till I was done cleaning. My thoughts were focused on the time when I would lie down on the chaise, spread my legs and slowly jack at least one load of spew from my achingly hard cock.

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Warning: I write love stories with graphic sex. Sometimes the lovers are of the same gender. So if love offends you, you'd best move on. MJL * As I sat in the unknown room, blindfolded, my hands tied behind my back, I was apprehensive, but not really scared. While it’s true there had been stories around for years about hazing stunts gone terribly wrong, resulting in serious injuries and even deaths, nothing like that had ever happened at my university. Also, the fraternity I was pledging was probably the last one where such a thing ever would happen.

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I first met James at a Christmas party my parents were throwing. He was the contractor they had hired to put together the new house they were building as an anniversary gift to each other. It would be a lot bigger than the two stories, three-bedroom house I had grown up in, which meant that there would be plenty of room for either me or my sister if we needed it, which wasn't something I was about to complain about, considering that at twenty four, I was about to run back home with my tail between my legs.

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"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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