Your erotic stories

"Are we sure we want to sell the house? It's in a great location and it should be scarfed right up. There won't be second thoughts to be had about it. Sales in Mystic are booming." Daren Peters was standing at a window at the back of the house, taking a break with a cup of coffee, while his older sister, Peggy, chattered on as she continued packing boxes to send back to California.

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As I walked into the city on the main street, Damrak, leading directly from Amsterdam's central train station, I nervously fingered the folded e-mail I'd been carrying tucked in my wallet for the past month and a half. Damrak changed into Rokin, and at the end of canal off the Amstel River, I made a right onto Heiligeweg.

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Dutch came first. It was a particularly busy and boisterous night in the Dick Hut, tucked in the back shadows of an alley off the Nuuanu Stream in the heart of Honolulu's red light district. The sign over the door actually said "Richard's," but that's not what everyone called it. Naval ships were in harbor, more than ninety of them, I was told, and all of Oahu was abuzz at the rumbling of war, with the Japs getting more belligerent with each passing day.

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"Open to me. Open to Daddy."

And I spread my legs for him.

Before that, he had pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen. He had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over nine inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the other jogger emitting little sighs and moans of pleasure.

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As Ted Biondi looked at the young man through the peephole of the motel room he was staying in, the 57 year old salesman enjoyed the gawky kid's fidgeting as he seemed to be trying to summon up enough courage to knock on the door. He certainly looked like a geek, which was what Ted had him figured for when they spoke on the phone after Ted had read his ad on Craigslist, in which he claimed he was a 19 year old bisexual male looking for fun with an older man.

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"You first encountered the defendant where, Mr. Philips?" "At my gym. We were members of the same gym." I did not want to be here, in this courtroom. But the DA had intimidated me. He had said that they might delve deeper into why I was in Baltimore—why I had left San Diego. I really didn't want them to do that. I had just fallen into it in San Diego.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well.

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Omar and Barry were my neighbors in DC before they moved to California 10 years back. They lived in my building complex and we hit it off immediately after meeting at a mutual friend's dinner party. Barry and I quickly connected over our love of team sports. At nearly 6ft, he was a big man but surprisingly agile on the field. He joined my soccer team.

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Corey Cooper wrote this journal on his laptop in two places, the first part sitting on the throne of the bathroom in the motel room he was brought to, and the rest at home after his battery gave out. *** It was somewhere around 4 in the morning when I finally gave in to the fact that I wasn't going to be getting any sleep, and while the man sleeping beside me wasn't helping with his occasional snoring, the truth is that I never could sleep well in any bed but my own.

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Kyle Bryce turned off the shower in the cheap motel room his new benefactor had gotten for them to stay in, and the teen had to admit that after a couple of days on the road it felt good to be fresh again. The shower was Mr. Wilbur's idea, although Kyle was going to take advantage of the facility anyway, because the way this cross-country trip was going he had no idea when he could take another shower.

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