Your erotic stories

I looked on in horror at what had just happened. All my attempts to keep my true identity secret had been snatched from me in that one cold moment when Charles Wild, Skipper of the Golden Eagle, grabbed my shirt and it came away in his hands. His eyes focused on the bindings that held my breasts in place to give the impression I was a boy. I saw the lust in his eyes and realised I could no longer hide under the name of Jack Jones.

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My roommate, Rob, was out of town that weekend, but that didn't stop me from hanging out with Rob. There was another Rob that we hung out with pretty frequently and I ended up going out with him and Hugh that Saturday night. After a few hours at the bars, drinking a number of beers but failing miserably with the women, Hugh headed home and Rob and I headed to his house to crash.

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I really had no good reason to go back to Baltimore. The woman that I thought I loved, that I thought had loved me, was past tense. (An icy telephone call, my words falling like snow, my emotions kept cool by distance and the warm memory of another woman).

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