Your erotic stories

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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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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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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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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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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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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Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. Nebraska to New York. I guess I've been driving that route for over fifteen years now. It was a long trip and it was a boring trip. Long hours at the wheel of my eighteen-wheel refrigerated trailer-truck, delivering meat from the heartland to the East Coast. I had a good steady job with Macon, Mitchell and Marlin, the big meat company, and I certainly wasn't complaining.

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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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"What do you think of him," I asked, pointing to an older man with a combover. "He looks like he won't spit on our food." "Ugh, I hope not. He looks like the kind to talk about his grandkids to us for twenty minutes and then forget to take our order."

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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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