Your erotic stories

The shame, the paranoia, the guilt, I'd experienced it all in high school. I'd watch the other guys in the shower out of the corner of my eye, terrified I'd get an erection and be betrayed. After that you'd think I'd grow up and come out of the closet, but I pretended to myself as much as anyone else that I wasn't gay. I dated, I had sex, I got my first apartment, and still I looked at other guys out of the corner of my eye.

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In most senses Bran had been invisible at the Hayden saloon the couple of months he'd been there. But as he came out of the back room into the main saloon hall, carrying the bucket of water Levi Yost, the saloon keeper, had told him to use to freshen the bowls in the rooms upstairs, he looked at the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Sadie, Katie, and Faye were busy happily decorating the tree with colorful bows from their own drawers. The tree had been his idea.

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Dust. All over, on everything. I take in the clutter of furniture in my great-uncle's attic, sighing as I silently wonder what the hell I am going to do with it all. Nearly every inch of space is taken by sheet-covered antiques in all shapes and sizes.

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Let me first introduce myself. My name is Marcus Sinclair McManus. I am twenty-five years old, single and I live in Los Angeles. I work in advertising for a relatively small, but very successful and profitable agency called Sinclair McManus, which I also happen to own. I became the sole owner of this agency, founded by my parents Andrew McManus and Jennifer Sinclair, some three years ago, at the tender age of twenty-two, when both my parents were killed outright in a truly horrible automobile crash.

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Captain Delwin Jackson—Diggs to almost everyone who knew him—opened the only eye he was able to open, seeing first the photo of Tawna and the kids, Jamia and Jeron, that should be in his wallet but, inexplicably was in a frame too big for it and standing on top of a white laminated nightstand next to the bed.

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Aidan studied himself critically in the full-length mirror. He had inherited from his much-missed mother high cheek-bones, fine bone structure full, pouting lips and a slender physique. Raising his arms he performed a slow pirouette. There was only the lightest of dusting of hair under his arms. His body was smooth, his chest adorned with two large chocolate discs which haloed caramel nipples. A few dark wisps led from his navel to a modest nest that framed his sex.

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I've heard some people say that in college you learn stuff about yourself you never even considered. In my case that's very true. When I arrived at my dorm room on my first day of college and met my new roommate; Sam, I felt I knew myself pretty well. The geeky guy with glasses who would probably never get further than second base with any girl, and desperately trying to get a spot of popularity by being clown of the class.

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The phone's catcall squirmed its way under the covers. The ringing passed over the hills and valleys of Aurelio's fluffy black comforter and worn green sheets. The sound found the soft corners of his skull and nestled in there, curled around itself like a small dog and settled down for the wait.

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Comment by the author: I received quite a few requests for this sequel, and meant to have it written ages ago, but mid-writing I went into a bit of a slump. But now I have finally finished it! Sorry for the wait, and hope it's to your liking! "Beware the woods at night... beware the lunar light." ~ from the song "Wolf Moon" by Type O Negative

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My name is Brad and I'm huge. I'm talking 6'4 and 245lbs of muscle. To top it off, I'm a bear and I'm only 20. Imagine a bull in the china shop, that's me. I fucking hate it. I've always heard that we want what we can't have. That is so true. I wish that I was small and delicate but I'm not. I'm a big hairy oaf.

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