Your erotic stories

This might have been 1972 in San Francisco but out here in rural Averill Park it might as well have been 1930. There may have been gay guys my age around, but if there were they kept it to themselves like it did. A couple of weeks ago my Mom let me take the car into the big city, which in our case was Albany, New York.

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"So?" Jason asked as he rolled up at the bottom of the drive on his mountain bike. Robert held up his phone, showing the message from his older brother with two specifically capitalized words in an otherwise innocuous message — care package. "Sweet. Let's roll." The pair set out on the gravel road, riding even deeper into the middle of nowhere. Living out in the country certainly had its disadvantages, but there were a few things that helped offset the boredom and inconvenience. One of them was the lack of prying eyes.

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If you asked our friends and neighbors, "Hey, what kind of couple are Ingrid and Ben?", I'm sure they'd all say, "Oh, they're very nice, very quiet." Just another dull suburbanite couple, laid-back and conservative. Appearances, as they say, can be deceiving. Maybe my friends would mention the fact that I'm a very attractive woman, the archetypical Scandinavian beauty, with pale, ice-blonde hair, china blue eyes, and flawless alabaster skin.

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He was the perfect gentleman. I'd been working at Junior's, an old fashioned ice cream parlor in the tourist trap part of town known as The Riverside for a couple of months. He came in at least once a week, had a single scoop of chocolate ice cream and always he made me laugh. His name was Craig. I'd guess his age at about 50. He looked his age, but in all the right ways. He had thick hair, black at one time but now going white.

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It started with a telephone call, a couple of weeks ago, one of my former girlfriends called Christine, inviting me to her birthday party. I had nothing else planned for the evening, and accepted the invitation. When I walked into the venue, an upstairs room at a local pub, Christine was leaning on the bar, ordering drinks. She was wearing a very short, mini skirt, her long shapely legs were parted, and her J. Lo like arse, was pushed back, Christine, was on the pull.

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I was butt naked when I met the girl of my dreams. Yet, that was not the most unusual circumstance of that improbable introduction. She was naked as well on that fateful day, as were the twenty or thirty other people in the area. It just goes to show that there is some wisdom in the old Boy Scouts' motto: Be prepared.

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I can describe beauty. It stands tall and slender at the rails of the boardwalk, allowing the sea breeze to dance with white hair glowing in the moonlight. It is elegance wrapped in a cream-colored mock turtleneck sweater and matching cashmere slacks. Beauty is a countenance of serenity, absorbing the power and wonder of creation knowing all share a common source.

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When I left the big city I had lots of good reasons. I hated having neighbors twenty feet from my bedroom. I hated that there was always machine noise; from cars, TV's, sirens, brakes, and leaf blowers. I liked that if I wanted something it was close. I hated that whatever it was I wanted I had to stand in line to get it. I was in my mid fifties and figured I'd spent at least a year in line! I got lucky. I came into some unexpected money. I decided that all the reading and work I'd done on me deserved a reward.

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Dave was spading the flowerbed along the fence but his attention was on his wife who was planting flowers in the bed around the fountain. At forty-five, Jane was still a very impressive woman, especial bent over on her knees with her ass up in the air. The old cut offs she wore showed more than a little of her ass cheeks and allowed the plump outer lips of her sex to peek at him. The tent in the front of his shorts was a jutting testimonial to her sexiness.

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Moving to a new town is never easy, especially when you're 18. My name is Jason, and a quarter of the way into my senior year, and my dad gets a new job a thousand miles away. I hollered, whined, and complained as much as I could, but to no avail. My mom insisted that I stop making a fuss. She said this would be hard on all of us and that dad had no choice. If he didn't take this job we would lose the house since we there was no way we could pay for it for all we invested into it. She said that seeing us upset would just make it harder for him than it already was.

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