Your erotic stories

One day, a classmate from my Asian Arts class stopped me just after class. He invited me to a party at his fraternity. I thought about it, and since I had no other invitation, I decided to go and have a little crazy fun while I was there. You know; you're only in college once. Frat parties have not been on my list of 'must do' social events since my third semester.

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I hate it when they keep moving stuff around. When it comes to things like fish or produce, I find better quality at the local health food chain store. But the produce department here seems to like to move things around from week to week, I guess to create a more seasonally appropriate display. But I'm a pragmatic man, and I like to find things in the same place.

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I think I just might be the best peach picker in Virginia. Well, in Rockingham County at least. And that isn't just me boasting. That's what Brother Jeb said all the time I was picking peaches for him. And Mr. Howell said that to me too. More than once he said that. I've heard both men say that, in the peach business, it's getting the first fruit of the season to market before anyone else does that can mean the difference between a good season and a break-even or bad season.

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I hate labels. I don't consider myself gay. Hell, I don't even think of myself as bi, either. Slightly bent? Straight with a slight curve? Fuck if I know because I love sex with women. Really, I do, except I've had a dick or two inside my mouth, too. So, what does that make me? Before Todd, I never thought much about it. Best to think of myself as a horny bastard and leave it at that.

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Did I have enough nerve? After all, we were in my bedroom - just the two of us. We had reached a line. Do I cross it? It had taken a long time to get here as I stood at the foot of my bed with Brian holding a tube of lubrication in his hand he just found in my bedside table. He acted shocked. The question was he really shocked?

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The week following my night with Julie and her friend Tiffany was pretty typical except for the two booty calls Julie paid me during the week. It was more difficult for us to hook up because her parents were home during the week so she had to sneak over to my house when they thought she was hanging out with friends.

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It had been six years since we had graduated from college, and for the first time since graduation, all three of us were together again. From the enthusiastic hugs at the airport and then the conversation and laughter during the dinner we shared at a local restaurant on the way to my home, it was clear that while plenty of time had passed and we had kept in contact, the comfort and attraction between the three of us when all together in the same physical location was still undeniable.

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"SHHHHHHHhhh..." said Dane, as we walked into the dark foyer of his parents' home. I couldn't stop myself from giggling at the absurdity of the situation. The two beers I had at the college party probably did not help. I managed to hold it together for a few moments as we both craned to listen to the silence coming form within the house.

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I lurched into my dorm room and sat heavily on my bed. Natalie looked up from her studying, and raised an eyebrow. We had only been in school for three weeks, but living together 24/7 we had already bonded as friends. She knew I was upset. "You're back early, Emma" Natalie commented. "It's not even midnight. Did Jimmy get drunk?"

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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.

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