Your erotic stories

When I stopped in at Starbucks on my lunch hour last week I had no idea what was going to happen. I was dawdling-it was a slow day at the office. No one seemed to care when I announced I was taking off half an hour early to go work out. I went through my sets quickly so there was time for coffee when I finished-not lunch, as I was determined not to let my hard-won gains get covered up by belly fat.

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This story is a work of fact and not a figment of my sexual imagination. However if you are under 18, or offended by frank, open, graphic sexuality of all adult types then please do not read it. If you are not offended please enjoy. * PART 1 -- My second and longest time with a guy was at university when I was 21. And it happened with a guy I'd known for 2½ years!! His name was Mike and he was a good looking guy, a good build and blond, curly hair.

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As a college freshman at a state school in the Rocky Mountains, I was a pretty conservative guy, especially considering all the boozing, drugs, and wild sex that was running rampant in my coed dorm. My high school years were very low key; I had dated the same girl since sophomore year, swam competitively, and studied hard. At university, I was in way over my head as a mechanical engineering major and the freshman weed-out courses were giving me hell. I drank a little on the weekends, but most of my free time was spent studying.

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I'm a 32-year old male, happily married, with a very satisfying sex life. When my wife and I are in bed together, we entertain each other with stories—fantasies and otherwise—about sexual escapades. We consider sharing fantasies to be nothing more than foreplay even though some of our ideas get pretty wild. I get turned on imagining watching her getting thoroughly screwed by someone and my description of such an affair turns her on, too.

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"Hi there, I'm Chris," I say, as we meet for the first time and shake hands. "Lovely to meet you. Come on in," you say. We walk through to the kitchen/diner. "Cup of tea or coffee -- or would you prefer something stronger?" you ask. "Coffee would be great," I reply, "One sugar and not too strong, thanks."

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"Ugh, I just wanna kiss someone tonight! Is that so much to ask for my birthday?" Sean said with a jokingly frustrated tone as we stood in line to get drinks. "Then do it!" I replied, encouraging him to go approach one of the hotties on the dance floor. Before I could register what had happened, Sean leaned in close and planted a wet kiss on my lips.

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Will paced back and forth in his dressing room as he recited the lines over and over to himself. Tomorrow was the first day of shooting; the first day he had to make a whole audience of people believe he was gay. It's not that he had anything against gays, or that he felt like he was above them, but he had a sort of disconnect, and wondered if this role was beyond his talents. He sat down at his table, in front of the mirror, and stared at his very blond hair. It was quite a different look for him, and he wasn't entirely sure it suited him.

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Jay Williams loved living in the mountains. He loved waking up to the scent of pine. He relished how his cabin floorboards creaked under his footsteps. Even the early-morning chill only soothed by building a fire was refreshing. Nothing compared to chopping wood by the glow of the sunrise. Most of all, he treasured the isolation. He hadn't always lived alone. There was a time when he woke cradled in another man's arms. But that chapter of his life was over now. That man was gone, and he was never coming back.

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Two months later I walked out the prison a free man. I enjoyed the bus ride to my hometown. My mother was surprise when she saw me standing on her porch. We sat and talked before the front door slammed open. My sister ran over almost knocking me down. "You're ass better be home for good!" She yelled as she ran up the steps. "Oh, my God!" The voice was my ex-girlfriend Gloria. "Why didn't you call me when you were on you way home?"

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It was a hot Saturday night in the summer of 1971 and the bathhouse was throbbing. A guy I knew from school at San Francisco State, had suggested the visit after we'd struck out with a couple of secretaries at Perry's Bar on Union Street. They'd teased us right up until closing time, and then given us the slip. We found ourselves on the sidewalk as the bar closed, high and horny.

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