Your erotic stories

I shifted from one leg to the other impatiently, weighing my chances of escape. What would happen if I worked my way over to a window and forced my way out? No good, because not only were we stuck between stations but we were underground as well. The thought of emerging into the tiny dark space of the tunnel only to be hemmed in by a cold metal train was even worse than the claustrophobia I was starting to suffer where I was.

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When I awoke in the early morning I was feeling horny, still pleasantly excited from the previous evening and wasn't surprised to feel my erection pressing hard against the shorts I was wearing. The latter part of the previous evening had been spent drinking and talking to Bob and Tony about anything else that came to mind but mainly sex.

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My wife and I are both professionals and have been married for over six years. Unlike her, my job requires me to travel during the week. I'm a computer consultant and the nature of my business keeps me on the road from one project to the next and I'm always meeting new people to work with.

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Just when I thought that nothing would happen, on the thirteenth day after my trip to Birmingham, a text arrived at around 8.30 pm saying "Hope to see you at 6.30 pm tomorrow at the same place or will contact as previously notified." This was a veiled threat that to anyone else would have appeared innocuous. A further message arrived shortly after saying "Just in case you are having second thoughts, here is a sample photograph.

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I knew that I should not be doing this, but that just made me stroke my cock harder! It was an amazing feeling, and the camera was capturing it all!

Okay, let me back up just a bit and bring you up to speed. I had a contract job for a low budget movie, and had traveled out of town to be on the set for about two weeks. It was not much of a movie, a sort of future-horror thing, and I was part of the camera team. As such I got to spend a lot of time with the newest toy, a super high speed camera used for taking extreme slow motion shots.

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Ancient Cures for Modern Problems PART ONE Tim's mouth dropped open. A ghost! A man in white chino pants and a new red Hecadock Junior College sweatshirt yelled instructions to students on the tennis court. He was about forty, six-foot-two, powerful build, blond hair, crewcut.

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I had finally returned to the grounds of Oakton Park to scatter Luke's ashes.

We had spent the last two months of Luke's life in a small cottage in the grounds of the main house, and it had been Luke's wish that the grounds should be the final resting place for his ashes. I had wanted them to go somewhere that I could return to to mourn him. But in those last weeks he had been insistent. And I couldn't break the promise he had forced me to make to him.

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Just like always I can hear the nearest neighbour pour water into something before he shuts the water off. The soft padding of feet floating above my head. I follow the footsteps, wandering beneath him. It's fascinating, how I can hear every move he makes. I know when he goes to work, when he comes home, when he sleeps and when he wakes.

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He was almost completely untouchable. Even in his tribe he was an anomaly, the rest of the friendly people tactile by normal standards, but to him they kept a respected distance, granting him the space the shaman deserved by some silent demand to keep all hands off of his smooth dark skin.

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Even though my new roommate was straight, he never had any problem with me being gay. In fact, from the start I think he was intrigued by it. More and more he was hanging out with my gay friends and acting totally comfortable among them, unlike many other straights guys I've known. Brian was a freshman and was assigned as my roommate after my old one dropped out of school.

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