Your erotic stories

You hear me come in the door and call out letting me know that you're in the bedroom. Sitting up in bed, you wait for me to come to you. It's late on a Saturday night and I was having a 'Girl's Night Out' with some friends from work. Walking into the bedroom, I smile and stroll over to kiss you. Though I have a slight taste of liquor on my breath, I'm not drunk.

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The Sunday session is tradition in Australia. After two days of relaxation the young and the young at heart head for their favourite watering-hole to cap off the weekend before returning to the grind of the working week. I was in town on business for a couple of weeks, I’d come alone leaving Caz, my wife 1 600 Km away. My usual outlet for my excess sexual urges was not on hand, If you’ll pardon the pun, so I sought an alternative. This was acceptable to Caz as long as it didn’t involve women and she was told all the ‘dirty details’.

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Part 1 I had never in my life had a wet dream before and so it came as a shock, albeit, a pleasant one when I awoke to find my underwear completely drenched in the sticky substance. My penis still very hard and covered in the moist liquid. "Wow, that must have been one hell of a dream" I thought.

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We had know each other for two years before anything ever happened between us, but he never knew how I felt towards him. Our friendship was nothing to special just the occasional hanging out and text every day or so. My feeling for him had recently developed when he split with his girlfriend of four months. Now I had been bi since I could tell the difference between sex organs but it was a secret I kept mostly to myself.

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My mobile rang so I picked it up. It wasn't a number I recognised. 'Hey you, it's Luke. Remember me?' The voice on the other end was deep and sexy. I remembered all right. Still it had only been two days. There I was innocently minding my own business meeting my friends for a week night drink and game of pool. Then there he was, the barman.

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Hair: black, long, straight as the trajectory of sinking moon on a hot summer night. Face: young, narrow eyes, stubbled, tanned by the sun of unwholesome lusts. Chest: narrow, hard, graven like pale stone. Jeans: faded, ripped, packed full where it matters.

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"Silas's Choice." "Say what?" Rocky Hansan asked. "Silas's Choice," I repeated. "You are offering me the same options you offered Silas Collins three years ago. Did you realize that?" "Of course not," the chief of the Near East Division said. "Farthest thing from our minds."

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"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back." With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.

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My first semester in college I was worried about what kind of roommate I might have like most people on their first time away from home. I spent 3 nights by myself in the two man room before my roommate, Shane, finally showed up. It came out later after we got to know each other that he was worried as well and was spending the nights at a frat brother's room before he got enough nerve to show up. We had become good friends by then and had a good laugh about it. 

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It was my day off, but I stopped by the shop anyway to get the address of the mechanic Cody used when his car acted up. A pizza guy's life blood is a car they can depend on, and mine had began acting up the previous night. My last couple of hours, it decided it didn't want to start a few times and I had to use a hammer to tap the starter motor to get it to roll over this morning.

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