Your erotic stories

The sky started clouding over as I found the cafe called 'Chances Are' down on Santa Monica Boulevard and pulled in. In 1974, I was nineteen, and had found a man in a swinger's ad magazine, and was here to meet him.

Inside, it was different than any other restaurant I frequented. The clientele was all men, not a woman in sight. I felt a shiver of guilt and fear as I waded into these unknown waters, looking around for a man in a black suede jacket with a large red book. That would be Gary. 

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The Moguls' General had plowed me almost as deeply as Konan the barbarian had. And before he left he assured me that now he had enjoyed my 'asset's' he knew I would be a great success at the Moguls' court. When the General was gone I lay back happily among my cushions with my legs wide, feeling better fucked than I had ever been before, and thinking about my brilliant future. But I also longed to feel the great barbarian Konans' huge weapon plowing me deeply again.

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It was the middle of a cold December day. I sat there in my small, unclean apartment just passing the time while watching TV. I had the day off. That's usually a good thing but today it wasn't a big deal. Most people were too busy to even do anything. Christmas was only a few days away. I was alone.

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You, my sweet wife Julie, have occasionally shared some of your fantasies with me in moments of post coitus intimacy. It seems to be our time together when we share our most inner secrets and sometimes, hidden, desires. One which has come to the surface several times over the past few months is a scenario of you watching me make love – not just participate in having sex – but truly making love, to another man while you watch.

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Authors note - Thankyou for taking the time to read my work, i know this chapter is fairly short, but it is only the introduction to the story about how Joe and Jacob meet. Enjoy. * It was mentally exhausting, and that's without adding how physically exhausting it was to push yourself every day, into something that felt so impossible.

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Mike was fifty-three and in pretty good shape for a man his age. He was about six feet tall, 198lbs, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was nice looking and had a hairy chest. He had been married for nearly thirty-five years now and the marriage was a good one except for a couple of rough periods here and there. While Mike felt fine his wife was constantly after him to get a physical.

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"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?" "Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ." "No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope." "Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

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I got home late one night from my usual cardio session at the gym. Working out had got me sweaty and horny, so I raced home, glancing to be sure the DVD was still on the passenger seat, something I had grabbed from the gay section at the porn shop I worked at, before leaving for the day.

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"Now, let me get this straight so it doesn't happen again..." I pressed the back of my hand across my roommate's forehead, frowning a little. His face, though a pale eggshell color only a few seconds ago, quickly came ablaze in a scarlet blush. "You fainted during class because you had a bad night's sleep and missed breakfast," I assessed with an incredulous grimace, "yet you still want to become a paramedic too?"

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The year was 1984. South Africa wasn't a happy place. I was in the army for my two years of national service. My name is Ben, and I was gay and out, unusually, as my lover and I were activists. Well, I was an activist-wannabe, since I should really have conscientiously objected to National Service, as others had, and endured the prison sentence, but I guess that I didn't have quite enough of a problem with the white "regime" to risk that extreme form of conscience.

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