Your erotic stories

It all started over a letter. A simple piece of paper with a college header addressed from far, faraway. A letter from some fancy professor that would change everything Dane knew. It meant that Kobe was leaving soon and there was nothing Dane could about it, the letter proof of his best friend's decision to go to school.

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It was tradition among our friends to camp out in Jake's backyard at least once every summer. Jake had a giant tent, with three rooms and two closets. The first time we ever set it up it took us two hours. Working under the hot summer sun, joking and sweating, we were confident and untouchable. We were seniors this year, nearing maturity, working out every chance we had. Needless to say, we were very in shape.

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When my dear friend Bok called me and said he had big news for our next coffee date, I had a pretty good guess at what it was. He would probably tell me that things were official with Corey, the guy he'd been seeing for the last couple of months. What I didn't expect was how the news would affect me. "Oh my God, Arnold, I can't get enough of his body. In the morning, it's like...we don't even want to get out of bed!" Bok exclaims, grabbing my hand.

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This is my entry in the 2015 Valentine's Day contest. It's much shorter and very different from last year's entry. I hope my message about love will resonate with you. All characters are over eighteen. Please vote (once) and comment if you like. * Thad crouched in the bushes, waiting for his opportunity to jump the delivery guy. Jimmy, the cool guy, called to have the roses delivered.

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I hadn't even wanted to go on the Senior camping trip. It all seemed so fake. But after the guys on the basketball team begged me, and after my parents badgered me that it was 'part of the experience' I finally agreed. I felt like I would have been fine if we stopped the high-school bullshit and just lined up for a diploma, but nope. Senior overnight it was.

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My stomach was churning and a headache was starting to form just above my eyes. Nearly 20 years later, that building still gave me fits of trepidation: Bradford James High School; home of the Fighting Navajos. Of course, here's a tip for the people that name schools and figure out the mascot names: think like a high school kid. Going to school at Bradford James and being called the Navajos is a problem when you're always referred to as the "B J Hoes" by the other schools and kids.

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I hadn't brushed my teeth for four long days, a fact that I only know because it was the same amount of days that I had called off work. Here I was, 27, successful, handsome, climbing the corporate ladder, becoming wealthier by the minute, and I was falling apart because my boyfriend dumped me.

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Derek leaned against the metal railing as his grey eyes passed over the crowded cafeteria. With the entire population wearing the same uniform he had to focus on faces in order to differentiate each inmate.

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I have been a very lucky man: my parents could afford to send me through college and school-work came easy for me; fresh out of college I landed a prestigious and lucrative position in a major law office; when my father passed-away I inherited the family business; with little effort I built the business up to the point where a competitor bought me out and I made a huge profit;

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The café was warm, filled with low chatter and the pungent scent of roasting coffee. A jazz band sent its smooth sound over the vast expanse of crowded tables. Seated by the window, Hyuga bent his head over his sketch book, silently absorbed in the task of laying out the scene around him. His pencil glided across the page; he glanced around frequently to take in the exact detail of a certain mug or a woman's blouse. Incessantly, he flipped the dark bangs out of his eyes.

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