Your erotic stories

It was one of those hot and steamy tropical summers in this southern paradise that I call home. I am a heterosexual male that spends a lot of time at the gym keeping my body in shape. So that I can track the progress of my workouts, I shave my entire body, which allows me to see the definition of all of the muscles of my body. At first shaving my chest, legs and genital area was a little weird, but now I feel uncomfortable if I let any hair grow back.

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My neighbor across the street asked me to help him move some dirt to his backyard, which he had delivered and dumped in his driveway. It was a hot Saturday afternoon and, being the good neighbor, I walked across the street to tell him that I would give him a hand. My wife was going out of town to her cousin's house to spend the night and do some shopping. I thought I would have the weekend to myself to watch porn and jackoff, but I still had plenty of time for that.

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My first semester in college I was worried about what kind of roommate I might have like most people on their first time away from home. I spent 3 nights by myself in the two man room before my roommate, Shane, finally showed up. It came out later after we got to know each other that he was worried as well and was spending the nights at a frat brother's room before he got enough nerve to show up. We had become good friends by then and had a good laugh about it. 

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We had been married for three years when my wife and I took a vacation and traveled to stay with one of her childhood friends. He is quite openly and flagrantly gay and was living with a gay friend, Dan. They were not serious lovers, just two young gay guys who shared an apartment and enjoyed the gay party life together. They were both handsome, openly friendly young men who no doubt made quite a stir at some of the parties they went to.

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It had been a month since my first experience with a man. I know, I was a late starter - waiting until my mid 30's to begin experimenting. Judge me as much as you want. I'm OK with that. And, even then, it was pretty much by chance. But I liked it. A lot. Being a married man, with a wife who was perpetually horny, I never really had a whole lot of reason to go out of my way and satisfy my curiosity.

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I was eighteen, had just moved out of my parents' house after breaking up with my girlfriend of two years. I was not ready to go to college. So against my father's advice I moved to a city far away from my small home town and found a job as a mail boy at a large real estate company, which made it possible for me to rent a small flat and pay for my own car.

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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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We both were wearing our fatigues and bundled up against the fall night air at the edge of the woods behind the mess hall. So far there was no reason to adjust our warm clothing beyond my fly being unbuttoned. My cock was out as I leaned back against a tree trunk, but it was being kept warm by Corporal Hart's mouth enveloping it.

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I had wandered into the bookshop to kill time. My appointment with Carol at the employment agency was for 11.30am and I had caught the eight o'clock train in from the lake. For once it arrived on time. The employment agency was on the second floor of the building and I found the bookshop at street level. I had an hour to fill in before I had to go, up so I thought I'd look for a book I had been after for some time, The Mycenaeans by Lord William Taylour.

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The first guy showed up at 7:30am. I was still in bed so it took me a few minutes to get up, get dressed and get to the door. I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and went to stop the ringing of the doorbell, wondering who in the hell would be ringing it in the first place. I told myself that if it was my cousin, Kathy, I wouldn't knock her off the front stoop. She had a habit of showing up at odd times but never this early.

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