Your erotic stories

I have mentioned in other stories I have written here that I worked for many years as an English professor at a small but expensive New England college. I retired at the age of 65 as a result of the college's policy of mandatory retirement—a stupid idea in an age when most people live longer than they did in the past and most retain their brain capacity. I continued to live in the same town and the same house that my late wife and I had occupied for 30 years.

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Dear Readers, Everything is going according to plan. -Steve For a minute, I couldn't help but stare at him. Shock washed over me, intermixed with hurt, as if a needle full of misery had been injected into my veins. Whatever had been built last night was beginning to crumble all around us. It was like watching the 1871 burning of Chicago and being powerless to stop the devastation as it swept across town.

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Selma Fox looked at the Senior English Class and considered which lucky young man would be her boytoy that semester. The first and most rigid requirement she had was that he had to be at least 18 years old, because she didn't want to get into any trouble with the law. Fucking and sucking off students was frowned on by the officials of the school district but, as long as nobody got hurt and no laws were broken, they would be willing to look the other way. Good teachers were hard to find, and Selma was one of the best.

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So much for a senior prom, I mused, watching the flicker of the candle flames on the center piece. They wriggled in the dimly lit ballroom of the Rose Hotel, stretching only to almost drown in the liquid wax only to stretch again. It was supposed to be a platinum night. I had a date with a chick named Kara that had a killer body and a bottle of vodka my older brother bought me waiting in a room I rented upstairs.

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The morning mist covered the grass and flowers; it was a beautiful May morning in Georgia. Birds were chirping and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees that lined the long driveway that led to a spacious mansion. It was difficult for Nora to believe that she was only sixty miles out side of Atlanta;

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Chapter One: Never heard of such a thing. Some people have more money than brains, I figured, after listening to the explanation my pain-in-the-ass neighbor Bob Brennan gave me regarding his upcoming cruise. We were talking over the fence, as was our custom, and since he had handed me a frosty Sam Adams, it made the conversation more tolerable. I still thought the idea was goofy though.

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Honours year, and the going was tough. Going to uni at hours I didn't know existed, to check up on experiments. Going to uni on weekends, for God's sake. Writing methods, hypotheses, tabling results, hoping against hope that things would go OK - there's no margin for error as an honours student. At the end of the week, there was little I could do other than collapse into my bed and sleep.

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For Evan, wherever you are... It was twenty minutes after James's confession of age that I lay in his arms, my head on his chest. It was a new experience, and all of the new feelings were washing over me. I could not believe that not too long before I had had sexual intercourse with a man. I had always considered myself straight, never had once looked at another man or considered what it would feel like, but now I was in uncharted territory. What did this mean? Was I gay? No, I couldn't be.

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1. The love of my life. The first moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to marry her. She was a tall slender woman with flaming red hair who looked like a movie star to me. I watched every move she made all day, every day, and her beauty was unmatched by any woman I had ever seen. She had perfect white teeth that sparkled when she smiled, and that face would light up the room at those times. Her face, neck and arms were covered with freckles, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life counting them.

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It had been a long day and I was happy to see the line growing short. I love book signings, but I'm usually pretty happy when they wind down to the last few stalwarts and I know I can finally stop being "on". I surveyed the line and only saw five more people and knew the end was in sight. The third to last person handed me the book and said, "Hi Mister M. Will you sign my book?"

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