Your erotic stories

A week before Christmas, I ducked into the fifth floor men's room. It served as temporary reprieve. The first among twenty or thirty things I could invent to occupy myself while avoiding the remainder of the company Holiday party two floors below. One other occupant was in the room. He barely registered on my eggnog-addled brain. Most years I managed to escape the compulsory merrymaking by being unavoidably detained somewhere else on company business. This year I was unavoidably detained in Los Angeles.

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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school. Mike was a bit of a paradox. He was a soccer player who wasn't a jock, a metal head who wasn't a burnout, and a good student who wasn't a nerd.

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We were in the study of Professor Hendrick's house, in the late evening, nearing the end of the tutorial he was conducting. At least I assumed it was nearing the end, because I was very close to coming. We were in a straight chair facing his desk. Professor Hendricks, his hands wrapped around my waist was sitting in the chair; I was sitting on his hard cock—or, rather, fucking myself on his cock in slow risings and fallings and me moaning in tenor to his groaning in baritone.

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The first time I met Mr. Steinberg, I was totally impressed with the way he carried himself. He looked pretty old to me, maybe in his 70's, maybe even older, but I could tell from the way he dressed and spoke and especially with his young physique, that he exuded confidence and self assurance. I don't think he was a body builder by any means, but dressed in casual attire, he stood straight and proud and when he moved around, his agility belied his age, however old he really was. 

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My father-in-law, Robert, is more than just my wife's father. We have much in common. We both like to read and watch sports. We both like working with our hands. He likes to fish more than I do, but it's another thing that we do together. We help each other with our yard work and home maintenance. We can talk to each other. He's my friend and a buddy.

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There's this guy I work with, Jason. We don't actually work together - I'm in accounting, he's in shipping - but we run into each other fairly often, and for a while now we've been having lunch together a few times a week. We're sort of an unlikely pair, really. Jason is 23, I'm pushing 50, he's straight and I'm gay, he's a big sports fan, and I couldn't care less. Although, I do try to keep up on his favorite teams, just to be able to have a decent conversation with him if the subject comes up.

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"Remember, sex onstage is illegal. This isn't fucking Amsterdam. You can jerk yourself off a little, play with the other guys' cocks, but if you cum, it's all over. Got it? No blowing your load. No oral. No penetration of any kind. Not that the other guys'd let you—they're professionals and a lot of them're straight. Got it?"

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All characters in the story are over the age of eighteen. * When I walked into my parents' house, I saw my mom on the phone. Shit, this can't be good. She was staring right at me. "Okay Rhonda, he'll do it. Six okay? It is? Great." I slung my back pack down on the couch. "What?" I asked. I was cautious of everything this woman did.

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Pete is a neighbour from a few doors away; he has always seemed a quiet sort of bloke who I'd spend the odd moment having idle chit chat with when our paths crossed in the street. I didn't know anything about him other than he lived on his own and enjoyed cycling, he could often be seen cycling off on his racing bike with his tight lycra shorts on and bare legs.

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Robby and I had known each other forever, we had grown up together and he was just always there. Our parents were friends and our birthdays were only a few weeks apart. He was like a brother to me. Having grown up together, we shared all of the typical youth experiences. When we were kids we did everything together; played in the woods, went fishing, played baseball together, rode bikes, built forts, and even drank our first beer together which we skillfully lifted from Robby's dad.

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