Your erotic stories

I waved down the waiter as I finished off my glass of wine. I asked for the check and scanned the room while I waited. The hotel restaurant looked bigger this early in the evening when it was relatively empty. Besides myself there were two other patrons, both male. One looked to be in his late forties. The man at the bar looked to be my age or younger. And he definitely caught my eye. He was about six feet tall with short black hair and a firm tanned body. His suit looked expensive and it fitted his slim figure like a dream.

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Sometimes, I couldn't stand my father. I believed it was his fault my mom killed herself. He was gorgeous and he could have anyone he wanted, and so he did. He cheated on her all the time. Men, women, she-males. And he would bring them home since mom died, not caring I was in the house. He was the dominate type, I would hear them begging for him, he told them too. I wouldn't be surprised if I had siblings out there I never knew of.

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A memorable episode that happened some years ago, when, as a young man freshly out of university, I had moved into my very first apartment after living in a student dorm for years. It had started as any other Saturday. Since I had moved into this building, a couple of months earlier.

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Guy comes into a bar and orders a beer. Bartender gives him a draft beer and says, "Hey Buddy, you don't look so good, you OK?" Guy says, "I have the world's worst hangover. I tried Alka-seltzer; I tried a Bromo, aspirin. Nothing works." Bartender says, "Let me give you a tip. Whenever I have a real bad hangover, I have my wife give me a blow-job. Cures the hangover every time."

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He was just posed there, his feet on the ground, half sitting in the seat swing in the overgrown abandoned playground at the back of the elementary school. I had walked over here on a whim to cool down from the sharp retort I had unexpectedly made to my mother at the lunch table. This after her third badly cloaked jab on why I hadn't married yet and given her grandchildren.

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My wife and I are both professionals and have been married for over six years. Unlike her, my job requires me to travel during the week. I'm a computer consultant and the nature of my business keeps me on the road from one project to the next and I'm always meeting new people to work with.

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I love cock. Can't deny it. Can't escape it. Not guys, as such, but COCK. I am married, love my wife and family, and will do nothing to endanger them or my marriage. But I love cock. Am I repeating myself? With local University connections, I am able to make use of the 5 different gyms and work-out centers on campus, in addition to the 3 pools they have. I admit, that at the pools I spend way more time looking at the co-eds, than anything or anyone else.

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Kelly and I were having a night out on the town, just good friends hanging out for each other's company, and for fun. I think it was her who made the suggestion initially, but I was also game, that we should go to a strip club. Now normally I wouldn't go to such a place with a woman, but she told me that she had been before and that this particular place had both male and female strippers, performing seperately.

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I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate.

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Ian was on a roll. With the second draft of lyrics well under way and the melody writing itself, he knew he'd finally gotten it. He'd finally written a love song to rival all love songs. Honest, pure, impossible to ignore: exactly what he was going for. Becca had to listen to this. She'd have no choice but to love him and allow herself to be loved in return. He's just started mapping chord progressions when someone knocked on his door.

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