Your erotic stories

He had hoped that by taking a long, hot shower that he would somehow be able to shake off, or at the very least reduce, that dreadful feeling of shame that had overcome him that night, but as was to be expected — it did not. He still felt dirty and had only found that feeling getting worse and worse by the second.

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"Hi there, I'm Chris," I say, as we meet for the first time and shake hands. "Lovely to meet you. Come on in," you say. We walk through to the kitchen/diner. "Cup of tea or coffee -- or would you prefer something stronger?" you ask. "Coffee would be great," I reply, "One sugar and not too strong, thanks."

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"He's late." "I know." "Did you call him?" "Home and cell, yeah. No answer." "He's been late every fucking day." "I know, Chad." Chad pursed his purple glossed lips. "Well, Mr. Know-It-All, maybe you can tell me just how the fuck we're supposed to record without a fucking singer!"

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I don't know when he's coming home or if he'll be alone, but I wait. Won't be long till the bars close. But I swear to myself I won't wait long. Not more than a half hour. It'll take him at least that long to get home. No longer though. Finally he walks up to the door alone, his breath hanging in a cloud on the cold air. For a minute he doesn't see me and I just look at him - what a cocky way he moves. Even when there's nobody watching he walks like he owns the world. And maybe he fucking does.

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It was all her fault. Really it was, I swear. I mean why else would I have ended up at the pornshop sucking cock and getting fucked through a gloryhole? It was her fault. Can't you see that?? Ok, maybe I better start from the beginning.

I was on a business trip to Wheeling a few years back. Yea, Wheeling. Nail City. And about as exciting as a sack of nails. I was looking for some fun so I went to the strip club on the island in the middle of town. Well, somebody had complained and they had cracked down, no total nudity and alcohol at the same time.

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I was playing some basketball down at the gym the other day with a bunch of my buddies. We had a great game, strenuous, but fun. Afterword, instead of hitting the showers, Cody and I just stayed in our gym trunks and t-shirts and I went out for a couple of beers. Cody's a great guy. A 31 year old divorced stock broker, 6'4" tall and chiseled out of granite. We'd been work out buddies on occasion and the one time I'd actually seen him with his shirt off, I thought he looked like a fuckin' marine, very lean muscular build.

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*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. ***** Derek Boudreaux checked his mailbox. Three banks down, one of the numerous tenants that lived in the apartment complex likewise checked their mailbox. Derek had tried once to engage the neighbor in conversation. The neighbor had claimed not to speak English. He then glared at Derek when Derek answered him in fluent Spanish.

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My name is Brad and I'm huge. I'm talking 6'4 and 245lbs of muscle. To top it off, I'm a bear and I'm only 20. Imagine a bull in the china shop, that's me. I fucking hate it. I've always heard that we want what we can't have. That is so true. I wish that I was small and delicate but I'm not. I'm a big hairy oaf.

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Going to try for a long chapter after this one. The events I've written for now aren't really conducive to length without getting overly tedious. Thanks to those people who submitted comments. I really appreciate the input. Lastly, I've been told my transition between perspectives could use a little work, so any tips or suggestions there would be phenomenal.

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Growing up in rural Virginia in the late 60's to very religious parents wasn't very much fun. After graduating from high school I wasn't going to hang around long. I was 18 and knew that there was more to life than what I had here. I had enlisted in the army and would be reporting in September, good by country life, hello to life in the big world.

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