Your erotic stories

Single again and with more time on my hands than commitments, I had decided to hit the open road for a while. I didn't pack an itinerary and only packed the clothes I thought I couldn't do without. After all, this trip would be atop my old Harley and there wasn't but so much room for stuff. In the past few years I'd come to live doing the things I want to do and like doing, which meant odd jobs, some consulting now and then, and lots more time to shoot outdoor images, something I'd not done in earnest since the film days of the 80's.

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Her passing had been very sudden. We had been sat together watching nothing in particular on the TV and she had slipped into a sleep that I realised, eventually, was death. The family had been caring, the funeral sensitive and then followed the lowliness -- that awful sense that something was missing in my life. Our children had all left home, but living close, they had kept in touch, not oppressively, but supportively.

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I had been "in love" with Caroline for as long as I could remember. Well, to be more precise, I began my crush on her during my adolescence. While hormones were raging and I was becoming aware of my sexuality it was She that became the focus of my desire. Caroline was my best friend - Peter Foster's mother. Pete and I had decided we would be best friends on our very first day at primary school, when we sat opposite each other and shared crayons. We have maintained that friendship right the way up to this very day.

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I was 18 and we had been fucking like rabbits. I had been home only 3 days since my return from MCRD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego). (AKA "Boot Camp.) My little girlfriend, the also 18-year-old "Katie," had been more than accommodating. I was definitely enjoying my first gays of freedom after the hardest 13 weeks of my life. Plus, she didn't mind at all my new body. I was now a 5'11" 165 lbs. Body of steel. Definitely worked off my baby fat.

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I've had my share of lovers, but there's always something special about the first. Here name was Eve, and this is my ode to her. This story takes some time to develop, so if stories like that aren't your cup of tea you might want to skip it. I'm not sure where to begin, so I guess good place to start would be to describe the principle people involved and a bit of their backgrounds. First, a little bit about myself at the time. I was eighteen, and still a virgin.

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I had just parked my truck, which sometimes can be not exactly an easy thing to do. It took me at least a half dozen trips around the parking lot looking for a space large enough. That is because it is a huge Dodge crew cab, oversize duallies on the back that sort of stick out. Yep, she needs a bit of room. I opened the door and had just put my foot on the running board to step down, being careful to not let the door scrape the top of the little thing parked in the next lane.

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Summer 2012: Beating the Heat in DC It's early July in DC--and already unseasonably hot and sticky in the nation's capital. The heat wave is unbearable with temperature in triple digits and everyone is seeking relief, even at night. My name is Han-Na, a Korean-American working in DC for a multinational company based in Seoul.

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I was thrilled when I answered the phone. "Hi, Bruce, it's Sandy!" Sandy! Sandy had been a photography student for several years, starting when she was a freshman in high school, and all the way through. The summer before college, however, we had parted ways. I had thrown her out of my darkroom for acting irresponsibly, making appointments to print in my darkroom for a show she'd gotten at a local restaurant, and then not showing up. She left angry. I was heartbroken. She was now almost out of college, 22 and grown up. I hadn't seen her in four years.

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There's just something about taking off a beautiful woman's panties for the first time. I slid my fingers under Laura's sheer, tiny black thong and she lifted her hips to accommodate the effort. She propped herself up on her elbows, and with one hand, reached behind her and unclasped the matching black bra, exposing her perfectly proportioned breasts, speckled with spectacular freckles, her pale pink erect nipples poking upwards like gumdrops.

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The three Henchmen were sat around a wooden table playing cards when justice came calling for them. They wore rough masks (little more than balaclavas with eye-holes torn in them); workmen's boots; and plain overalls adorned with a symbol of a long shadow trailing behind a man's outline. Three handguns and a bottle of whisky lay alongside the pile of money that they played for.

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