Your erotic stories

As we pulled up to my house I enjoyed the fact that no bicycles were strewn on the driveway and no soccer goal stood on the lawn. Just my wife and I at home tonight, with no kids to interrupt and no reason to try and maintain any appearances. I had been looking forward to this for weeks. I got out of the car and turned to say goodnight to my neighbor from down the street.

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Sam Stafford is a grouchy old man who lives up the road from us. Well when I say old, he's probably in his early thirties, but from the arrogant young age of eighteen, thirty is old. Especially the way he acts at times. He does, I will admit, have a green thumb, and his garden has the best roses for miles around. Come spring he had an amazing display. That's partly what led to the trouble.

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For me, coming to terms with what I am was like being born. It was something that happened when I was naked, wet and crying. I'm not really sure what it was that got me to realizing it. A long string of dates with 'the hot guy' that always left me feeling... well, feeling something. What I'm not sure. It was in the less than warm afterglow of yet another of those encounters that I was dragged kicking and screaming to the new spa that opened up nearby.

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