Your erotic stories

INTRODUCTION It was the summer of 1973 and I was the catcher for a fast pitch softball team. I learned about the team from friends who I had met in our townhome complex. Biff and Steffi were married and they lived in a townhome a few buildings from mine. Biff was the pitcher for the softball team and he had mentioned that they needed a catcher. I had played baseball in high school and college as a catcher so I told Biff that I was interested.

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Thinking back on it, I still ask myself, 'Did I really do that?' Let me explain. I owned a small house on the north side of Indianapolis, Indiana. Being young, I think I was 23 at the time, I took on a roommate to help me make ends meet. I knew that over a few years my income would rise to let me comfortably make my house payment, until then, leasing a room seemed to really make sense.

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You have this look on your face of intense concentration as you lock the door to the apartment, like a man on a very serious mission. This makes me giggle because I know what we're about to do, and knowing our dirty little secret makes me giddy. You catch my eye: "What are you giggling about?"

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It was the first time in my life I was living together with somebody else. It was thrilling. I remember the first time we went together to the supermarket. I was used to buy just a few things and spend some metal coins just not to use the Credit Card... I left there half of my monthly pay! We bought an unbelievable amount of stuff to start our household, most of which I would never think of.

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It has been a while since I've written, and I have to admit there hasn't been a lot to write about. Oh, I am still involved with my former boss, I still am dating a couple nice guys, still working and still enjoying life. At a recent luncheon with my friend Jennifer we reflected on our lives and the little and large things that make us happy. Jennifer has rekindled happy into her personal repertoire since breaking up with Max, a real jerk of a guy. Now she was playing the field, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.

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Each year I travel to the convention at Hay on Wye. It's a small town near Monmouth in Wales that has the most amazing river close by where in my teens and early twenties I used to canoe. Now I go to this sleepy area for its once a year awakening where book sellers, buyers and authors come to share tales, ply their trade or just browse and pick up the atmosphere.

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It started out as just another Saturday night – me, Terry, Jezza and a few other lads going out into Luton for a few beers and a bit of fun. Then Terry mentioned some gay celebrity he'd seen mincing about on TV before he came out, and we were into the usual shared rant about how queers were taking over, and soon it'd be compulsory to take it up the arse.

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I was walking across campus, headed to a nearby pizza restaurant for a late lunch. Suddenly a body pressed into my back and a hand covered my eyes. Startled, I tried to get away but my unknown assailant held me tight, something cold pressed into the middle of my back. I started to struggle and then I heard his voice.

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I had only been out of work for a week, and already I was getting bored. And that's a bad thing for me . . . to be bored. It's how I always get into trouble. Okay, it's one of the ways I get into trouble. So here I am, back home in the mountains of Tennessee, and I need something to do. It's beautiful here, and very secluded.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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