Your erotic stories

"Silas's Choice." "Say what?" Rocky Hansan asked. "Silas's Choice," I repeated. "You are offering me the same options you offered Silas Collins three years ago. Did you realize that?" "Of course not," the chief of the Near East Division said. "Farthest thing from our minds."

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Kate rolled over and viciously jabbed at her alarm clock, in hopes of stopping the annoying buzz. She couldn't believe that she was actually getting up at 5:30 am to start her vacation, but she needed to get moving if she was going to make it to her boyfriend's house by 6:30. Kate loved camping and she'd been looking forward to their first trip of the summer for awhile now. As she was staggering towards the shower, her phone rang.

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I think I just might be the best peach picker in Virginia. Well, in Rockingham County at least. And that isn't just me boasting. That's what Brother Jeb said all the time I was picking peaches for him. And Mr. Howell said that to me too. More than once he said that. I've heard both men say that, in the peach business, it's getting the first fruit of the season to market before anyone else does that can mean the difference between a good season and a break-even or bad season.

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This is a story about my wife and me before we were actually married. It was a summer night and we were getting ready to go out on the town with some friends to a local bar for a few drinks and some good food. My wife Katherine (girlfriend at the time) decided to wear a short summer dress as it was very hot that night and she wanted to be comfortable. What she didn't tell me until later that evening is that she also did not wear any panties under her dress to keep herself "even cooler".

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An adventure with pegging and peeing, set in the great outdoors of the Olympic National Rainforest. Since people seemed to enjoy hearing about how I lost my anal cherry to my wife's strap on, I thought you might like hearing about another experience we shared and how that wonderful toy of hers found it's way up my butt again.

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I hate camping; I think that it is the stupidest thing ever. Why would people want to go out into the wilderness and with no bathroom, no shower, and no electricity? But despite that my Dad would insist once a year that he and I went out to this obscure little clearing in the woods which wasn't even a real campsite. We would go out pitch a tent; eat fish that he caught in the lake, and sleep on the cold hard ground. 

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It was a rainy spring day and as much as I hated shopping I couldn't put it off any longer. Upon first entering the department store I passed a cute brunette trailed by two little girls. It was obvious that the shorter of the two wasn't happy to be there. She reminded me of myself at that age. I smirked and went to find the items I needed.

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He was just posed there, his feet on the ground, half sitting in the seat swing in the overgrown abandoned playground at the back of the elementary school. I had walked over here on a whim to cool down from the sharp retort I had unexpectedly made to my mother at the lunch table. This after her third badly cloaked jab on why I hadn't married yet and given her grandchildren.

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I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate.

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I arrived at the Jefferson's Lake Campsite entrance and upset some of those waiting - families in station wagons, seniors in their recreational vehicles, young couples in their cars pulling small trailers -- when I rode my bicycle right past them. I smiled as I approached the ranger station and saw a familiar face exit. I got off my bike and walked up to him.

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