Your erotic stories

Frigid rain falls steadily from a leaden sky as the train pulls into Union Station in Portland. Even the dreary weather cannot keep Tigger from bouncing up and down on the edge of his seat. It's a habit he's had all his life. As a child his mother teased him that he was bouncier than a rubber ball. His liveliness had earned him his nickname.

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Being married had never been a possibility for me... that is until I met Josh. We didn't click right off but sparks flew anyway. We were both temperamental with chips on our shoulders about relationships. With his being an architect and me being hired to design the web pages for his company, we were thrown together quite often.

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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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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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"Jason. Remind me again why I'm doing this?" I asked my older brother as I got out of his car. "Jordan, quit bitching. I really like Patty and she needs someone to look after her brother." "So, I'm supposed to somehow entertain him while you go get laid?" "Exactly. Besides, she says he's a fag, so you maybe you can get laid, too," he chuckled. "Remind me again why I'm not supposed to hate you."

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I'm close to the end of my life now, and as you reach your twilight years mostly all you have left is memories. Especially since I lost my wife of more than 50 years, Katie, I spend most of my time looking back.: my youth in Nebraska; my brief spell as a college football star; the first time I ever saw Katie, and fell in love with her; and, of course, the War.

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Peter Grandon sat moodily in his dorm room staring at his literature textbook and studying for finals. He had read the same passage four times and he still couldn't tell what the paragraph meant. His mind was elsewhere.

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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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Jude had gotten through the second set at The Spot in Chelsea the same way he had gotten through all of Logjam's concerts in the last two decades—riding a high on the music, the roar of the crowd, beer, and poppers. If the proportion of beer and poppers had been relentlessly creeping up over the last fifteen years, it had been too gradual for Jude to notice it, or too scary for him to acknowledge it.

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John Fisher was sitting at one of the many outdoor bars that covered the beach area of Phuket, Thailand watching the hundreds of sailors walking around. He had just gotten off the ship with a four day pass of not having to be back at the ship until the morning it got underway. The sun had just gone down with an evening tropical breeze blowing off of the ocean cooling off the heat of the day.

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