Your erotic stories

Nate sat in his car and took another long drag off of the half-finished cigarette, he knew that if he was going to chicken out he had to do it quickly. He looked again at the plastic shopping bag in the passengers seat and was tempted to reach inside and feel the cotton panties again.

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Disclaimer: This is all fiction, based on my own imagination. They have no relation to the real world. Any similarities of real people or places are purely coincidental. I hope you'll enjoy it. Keegan Richards was one of the fastest swimmers at Montel College. He was not the largest of his team-mates nor was he the tallest at five foot six, but he didn't mind.

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The boy had no real name. He was the tanner's get, below even the whore's runts, responsible for soaking the hides in urine. The tanner called the child "Boy," long after the boy had left childhood behind. The town was large enough that most forgot to which tannery the young man belonged; everyone called him "the tanner's boy" for so long that it became his moniker.

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I was tightly surrounded on the subway train by four young toughs, and I had a cock up my heretofore heterosexual ass. How could this have happened to me?

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and my wife, Florence, and I had taken a taxi downtown to Lacey's Department Store. We needed a new bedspread as the old one was getting pretty threadbare.

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For Evan, wherever you are... It was twenty minutes after James's confession of age that I lay in his arms, my head on his chest. It was a new experience, and all of the new feelings were washing over me. I could not believe that not too long before I had had sexual intercourse with a man. I had always considered myself straight, never had once looked at another man or considered what it would feel like, but now I was in uncharted territory. What did this mean? Was I gay? No, I couldn't be.

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As I walked into the bathroom, I immediately took note of its strange cleanliness, considering its location off of a highway. I sat down in one of the stalls and closed the door. As I finished my business, I turned around to flush the toilet, and noticed a hole in the wall, about 3 inches in diameter.

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I was getting ready for a trip to Washington on business, for work when Bill, a guy I didn't like at all, said at coffee, "If you are in D.C. you have got to go to the Iron Rod." "The what?" I asked, barely listening since all the guy did was bullshit. "The Iron Rod is the best pick-up bar in Washington. You are literally guaranteed to get fucked," he explained.

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I had only been home a few weeks when my boss called me into his office. He asked if I wanted to go back to Miami, a customer had called and needed some help planning a big project. I asked for a couple of days to get ready and he said that wasn't a problem. The first thing I did in prep was to call Anthony and tell him I was coming back. He told me to call when I found out my itinerary and he'd pick me up at the airport.

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My Husband It really is amazing how many secrets married people can keep from one another. I'm not talking about small stuff either, huge life altering secrets can be kept from loved ones with relative ease. I can't help but laugh at the countless husbands and wives who sternly insist that they know everything there is to know about their partner. Usually, those that are the most confident in the marriages are the ones who are slapped with the biggest jaw dropping revelations of them all.

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Insolent. That was the only word that came to mind as I looked at Jeremy Saitou. Everything about him seemed to radiate impudence: his brightly colored hair (red enough to rival any fire engine), his pierced brow and lower lip, the electric blue plugs in his stretched earlobes, his mouth, which—thanks to a small scar on the right side of his upper lip—was curled into a permanent sneer.

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