Your erotic stories

I woke up to find a strange man looking into my bedroom window on the seventeenth floor. Fight-or-flight kicked in first, and I jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. My body didn't know if it should leap from the bed, or jump into a fighting stance. And then my brain caught up and noticed two things at the same time.

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I haven't felt it in a long time. When you're with someone for six years the spark kind of dies down into a little ash-covered coal. If you're lucky it won't blow out entirely. So I'm attached in a rather permanent way… I know I shouldn't be feeling this. I shouldn't be playing. I didn't mean for it to happen; it started out so innocent. But I can't help it. There's just something about him that hooks me, claws digging into my flesh, into my brain.

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I walked in, and that's when it hit me. The smell of sex, attacks you the moment you walk through the door, the smell of men on men, all here for thing, to get off and get other people off. The thoughts and images that flash through my mind excites me even more, the thought of being fucked hard just to please a stranger or strangers made my cock swell and ache.

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Brad lay staring into the dark, looking at an invisible ceiling while listening to a strange man's slow rhythmical breathing and wishing he were back home in his own bed with his gorgeous girlfriend. Instead of that he was sharing an anonymous hotel room with a total stranger, one who just happened to work for the same company as he did.

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Perhaps I gave in so easily because Lenny embodied the best of two worlds. First, he was a wonderful, gentle caregiver. He had been coming to my house twice a day for several weeks to take care of my bed-bound grandmother, who was recovering from a broken hip. Second, he was drop-dead gorgeous. All blond Swedish muscle with a shy smile to accompany his sensuous mouth.

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I watch him from across the room as he orders more drinks. His name is Matt, and I think I love him. Unfortunately, Matt's in a very serious relationship. They have been living together for years, while I've only known them for a few months.

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The follwing story is a work of fiction, based on facts from my life. The names of all parties have been changed to protect their "innocence". "Hey Jim, you need anything from Supply while I'm down there?" "Naw, I'm good Marv, thanks anyway." I headed down the hall to the elevators so I could get to Supply. It was Thursday, and I was winding up some details so my weekend wouldn't be interrupted by any calls from the office.

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Pain. Hot. Blinding. Horrid pain. There was heat and wetness. But all I knew was pain. Over and over the waves of agony swelled inside me. I opened my eyes but could barely see the twisted mound of metal that was once my car. Panic rose inside me. I looked as far as my head would pivot, but I saw little but blurriness.

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I was on business in the Fire Island area of New York. Checking into a small motel I was surprised to see the small, old, Jewish-looking man behind the counter, in effect, checking me out. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or get annoyed by his eyeing me and smiling at me in what could only be described as a leering way.

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It's tough to keep a relationship going when you feel like no one really wants it to survive. Margo and I had seen our share of tough times, but we managed to keep our marriage together. Our relationship? Well, that was a whole different story. One of the points of contention in our marriage was our sex life. Or, more accurately, our lack of one. We were never the type to get passionate or worked up enough to break furniture and wake the neighbors. In fact, I'm confident that we were pretty damn boring in bed.

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