Your erotic stories

John Fisher was sitting at one of the many outdoor bars that covered the beach area of Phuket, Thailand watching the hundreds of sailors walking around. He had just gotten off the ship with a four day pass of not having to be back at the ship until the morning it got underway. The sun had just gone down with an evening tropical breeze blowing off of the ocean cooling off the heat of the day.

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Throughout supper, and in fact for the entire evening, I couldn't help but sneak glances at Kalin. Once or twice, I think I caught him watching me too. But with dad in the room, I didn't dare to do or say anything more. Anyway, by the time I went to bed, I figured that would be it. Like I said last time, I was a bit naïve.

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A muggy heat descended on the small town of Soulcrest, creating a thick, hazy fog in the air. No one dared leave the air-conditioned safety of his home lest his skin become covered in slick, sticky sweat. Even the animals of the neighborhood had found a cool space to spend the evening. The light of the full moon peaked out occasionally from the dark, thick clouds that covered the night sky.

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Derek leaned against the metal railing as his grey eyes passed over the crowded cafeteria. With the entire population wearing the same uniform he had to focus on faces in order to differentiate each inmate.

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Dracul finds the kid high up on the fire ladder, outside the familiar window. On the regular spot where the boy can be found almost every night, gazing longingly in through the glass with tired eyes, hidden by the darkness when the lights are on on the inside. He sits there, silently observing the motions of the everyday life.

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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.

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I was always fascinated with oral sex, i'm not sure what started it or why it appealed to me so much but it just does. If I ever started dating a chick and found out she didn't go down that would be it for me. It was a deal breaker she had to suck cock or i wasn't interested. Swallowing wasn't as important but it was preferred. When watching porn my favourite part was the blowjob watching the girl on her knees being fed a thick meaty cock was the epitome of sexy for me.

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I walked into the truck stop diner and was surprised to lay my eyes on an old truckin' buddy, Hank. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years. We both haul loads Coast to Coast, but rarely cross paths. "So, how you doin' good buddy?" he asked.

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My downward spiral into a submissive bottom slut started late in life. I'm still very much in the closet and outwardly I appear as the perfect suburban husband, father, employee and neighbor. I love my wife and family but I recently found a new hobby that I crave with a passion; I can't get enough of my neighbor's big hard cock. It all started innocently enough. I'm an economics professor at UC San Diego and my office is in one of the older buildings on campus.

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This story began a bit over five years ago as I write this, little did I know when I accepted this assignment that my life would be changed forever. United States Marine Sergeant Robert A. Whitson and I would begin rehabilitating him physically and mentally as he learns that the roadside bomb in Afghanistan took only his feet. He is still every bit the man he was prior to his injury. This is our story.

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