Your erotic stories

The café was warm, filled with low chatter and the pungent scent of roasting coffee. A jazz band sent its smooth sound over the vast expanse of crowded tables. Seated by the window, Hyuga bent his head over his sketch book, silently absorbed in the task of laying out the scene around him. His pencil glided across the page; he glanced around frequently to take in the exact detail of a certain mug or a woman's blouse. Incessantly, he flipped the dark bangs out of his eyes.

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I had resigned myself to another frustrating night alone without relief. It had been two weeks since I had last been allowed an orgasm, and the need was deep in my groin. This was not the first time that a significant period of time had passed without contact from my master, but this was the longest he had gone without coming to me, and he had been very specific that I could not masturbate and cum until he told me I could.

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David was one of the regulars at my favorite bar. He was one of many people I saw there on a fairly regular basis; we'd occasionally chat about sports or movies or our favorite types of booze. He was a couple years older than me (I was 26 at the time) and, even though I'd never had any sort of sexual or romantic encounters with another guy before, I couldn't help but notice that he was attractive.

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Walking through O'Hare airport in Chicago, I stopped short when I recognized my old friend Roger, whom I had not seen since our college days back in Oklahoma. Roger recognized me as well, as he smiled broadly and stuck out his hand. It had been almost 35 years since we had last seen each other and now we happened to meet by chance in an airport, both of us laying over for the night on business.

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Did I have enough nerve? After all, we were in my bedroom - just the two of us. We had reached a line. Do I cross it? It had taken a long time to get here as I stood at the foot of my bed with Brian holding a tube of lubrication in his hand he just found in my bedside table. He acted shocked. The question was he really shocked?

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I had met a really nice African-American guy named Karl for some hot sex. I was travelling for business and was satisfying my bi desires on these trips. I had met Karl through a gay chat room and we had a great hook-up. We promised to meet up again when I had to visit his city again. (See "My First BBC" for the story of how I hooked up with Karl.) 

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Prince Reiven fumed with rage. His father had no right to force him into marriage...and with a female, no less. The dark elves had long since been able to choose the sex of their mates freely, technology assuring that every couple could procreate a child no matter the sex of the parents.

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I felt guilt-ridden, taking pleasure from staring at the cute guy's cock. In any case, I reasoned, it was his own fault for wearing a wide-legged, boxer-style swimsuit; and therefore, I was entitled to continue admiring his jewels with impunity.

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The shower water has long since run cold. Those laughing, jeering voices have echoed into nothingness. Still I stand here, shivering and cowering, hoping like hell I am truly alone. Soon I will climb out of this cold, thundering stream and run through to the changing room. Naked. Those bastards have taken my towel and my sweaty cricket gear, even my box, shoes and socks.

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It was a warm night, the breeze from the ocean offsetting the heat. The moon had risen full over the eastern Caribbean. After a long day of hiking and snorkeling, my wife had gone to bed. I wasn't sleepy, so around midnight, I walked from the condo up the dirt road to where it ended on the cliff. At some time in the past a bench had been set there, so one could enjoy the view. I sat down to take in the view.

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