Your erotic stories

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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"Paging Miss Summers. Miss Summers, please proceed to the General Office." The bleep of the PA system sent a spark of excitement – or was it relief? – through me. It was the third day of the open house for Junior Colleges, and this was the first time that I'd been beeped to meet with a student or parent.

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I'm a spa fanatic. It's the one thing I like to treat myself to. I'm pretty good about my spending every other way. I always put money from each paycheque into a retirement fund. I bought my own house as soon as I had the minimum down payment. I bring my own lunches to work. I don't make impulse buys, when I shop. However, I find it perfectly reasonable to spend $100 an hour to have someone exfoliate me with sea salt.

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Pamela is a very attractive African American woman who lives in a small apartment. I have been making love with her occasionally for the last year or so, just the two of us and usually at her apartment, but she has certain dreams. She lusts for fair-skinned white men with green or blue eyes. Pamela fantasizes being the center of a gangbang with three such men and she wants to get together with them in luxurious surroundings. Last week all those things came true for her.

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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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Once upon a time. I've always wanted to start a story that way. As I look back on my life and try to find something to write about, that is the first phrase that came to mind. Has it really been that long ago, is the second phrase? Where all the time went, does not enter into it. I know where it all went; I lived it. For the good, the bad, or the indifferent, the time was used to the fullest.

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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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It really wasn't my plan to go to the family reunion, let alone having to sleep over at my aunt and uncle's house. I guess that I can't blame Mom and Dad for making me come along, especially after coming home drunk and obnoxious last weekend. They're still pissed off about that. I'm certainly old enough to stay home alone though, but they say they can't trust me right now. Nineteen years old and forced to tag along with my parents to a lame, out of town family reunion... How humiliating!

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Oliver got the shock of his life when he woke up one morning. He found that his wife had walked out on him. A short note lay on the kitchen table telling him that she would not be coming back. And Oliver had no idea that she had been unhappy with their marriage. After he got over the shock he tried to get on with his life. The thing he found hardest was the lack of sex.

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"So Rotham, how goes married life?" Maxwell, the Duke of Rotham, slowly turned in his seat and gave the man an insolent grin. "It goes well, thus far. But, the honeymoon is just over." "Never figured you'd ever take the plunge, to be blunt. Especially considering you're a man that kept a harem at one point in time." Steven Crowley cackled.

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