Your erotic stories

It was the wrong choice of swimwear, and I was headed back to the guest room to rectify that, when the cause of it all stopped me in the hallway. The new owner of our company had invited me to his country place for a weekend to discuss some details of a project we were working on, and it turned out there was a pool party included. But, not knowing that, I hadn't brought my suit. I had assumed this would be all business. So there I was, having to pick out a loaner suit from Thad, my boss, and I'd picked the wrong one.

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He stood by the corner, hugging a bag of films and lenses as he watched me posing shot after shot. I couldn't look away. He had the most arresting eyes. [Those swirling depths of brown]. He'd always stand by the side, watching the photo session silently with the most penetrating gaze. "Christian! Can you please concentrate!" Ruben Anders, my photographer, chided.

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I closed my lips over Sir Guy's cock and pushed his foreskin down with them, my tongue going to opening and flicking down into his piss slit as my mouth slowly took more and more of him inside the moist warmth of my mouth cavity. He sighed contentedly and ran his fingers through my hair. He reached up and pulled my cock down to his lips and started returning the compliment.

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I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened to me. I should start off by saying that I love women, I always have and I imagine I always will. But at the same time, part of me has been attracted to men since I was a teenager. I had a few drunken make outs with various guys, and once got brave enough to just graze a friend's dick with my hand, but nothing serious. That said, gay porn has also turned me on, and I think I knew somewhere inside that if I did something more serious with a man, I would enjoy it.

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I share a motel room with my best friend and he tries to fuck me while I am sleeping.

I have known Tom forever, we are best friends and we are both married. Our wives get along fine but it is our friendship that is special. Tom is a lanky guy about 6foot 2 190 pounds always has a great tan and blond hair. My mane is Matt I am 5 foot 11 about 225 pounds more muscular than Tom. We are both the same age 39.

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It wasn't a regular day of practice; only Hank and I had come in, and we'd worked out in the gym after we'd done laps on the field. I could tell he was steamed about something, but I didn't ask about what. He had finished first, and it looked like I had the locker room to myself when I came in from the gym. I took a quick shower and pulled on my briefs and some baggy shorts and an athletic T, and there he was, right at my locker before I had gotten around to pulling my sneakers on. There was fire in his eyes, and he slammed my locker closed with his fist.

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I breathed on my new chromed nametag and polished it on my sleeve. I had been promoted: Sergeant Lincoln Lovel. I attached it to my blue uniform shirt, checked myself out one more time in the mirror, and walked outside to the police car in my driveway. Life is good. My utility belt gleamed, newly polished; my buttons all glittered; even my service pistol shone like it was gold-plated. And I had sergeant's stripes on my sleeves!

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Since what had happened in the woods a few days previously, the guys were all a bit embarrassed. After all I was officially just the groundsman and they were the players and there wasn't a problem really as nothing had happened. OK it might have done and some said I was asking for it but it was end of season and a hot day in May.

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Author's Notes: Contains violence and what could be considered blood-play. ~*~*~ He could smell the blood everywhere. The scent was so strong that it seemed to cling to everything in the large building as he hurried up the stairs, taking two or three at a time before he burst into the room, nearly pulling the door from it's frame and hinges with the force of opening it.

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Prologue 5 years ago 18 year old Kenny sat beside the bed holding his mother's hand. He was both frightened but calm at the same time. When she had been diagnosed with lung Cancer a year ago, the doctors had given her weeks. Yet now, almost a year later, she was still hanging on. As he held her hand though, he knew the end was near. Her grip was a lot less than it used to be and her face was contorted with pain.

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