Your erotic stories

Everything started when I met this guy who went by the name of Special-S. We both posted on the same bodybuilding message board. I myself was not huge into body building. I have more of a slender runner's type of body. I did occasionally lift weights though and I liked to check this board to read about supplements and also post in the general off topic discussions.

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My friend Jeff and I grew up on the same block. We did all the things teenage boys do. Our parents were good friends and once a week or so they got together to play cards and have a few drinks. We usually hung out at whatever house our parents weren't at.

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Brad had left for college 2 weeks ago and I had settled into my job at a local restaurant. I worked in the kitchen preparing food for the cooks. It was a typical go nowhere boring dead end job but I needed the money. I became friends with a waiter named Jeff who seemed like an okay guy. 

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I looked at the clock, it was 4:10 on a Friday afternoon and my last client was running late. I ran a massage business and was looking forward to going out for drinks with my friends in the city. Being in this industry I feel the need to constantly look after myself so I am in good shape with a nice toned but not overly muscular body and a brown tan from spending time at the beach.

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It was a couple of days after our ‘wrestling match’ that I stopped by Jeff’s house. I was embarrassed and a little confused about what we had done, but when I got to the house he acted like nothing had happened.

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"And a ten-inch cock." "You're shitting us now," Oliver said. "Yes, I'm shitting you," Porter answered. "But, really, I would want him to have a nice cock on him." "Well, high on my list is that he has to be willing to take out the trash without being asked to," Adrian interjected.

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Last weekend my girlfriend Tina suggested that we go dancing at this new club she heard about. Now Tina is a very hot chick and loves to dance. I love to dance too and said sure, why not. She told me she wanted this to be really special and darted into the bedroom saying she would pick some things out for me to wear that would really turn her on.

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He was there again. 

The man of my dreams. 

Or, to be totally accurate, the man in my dreams.

On an off for over 5 years I'd seen him. He was tall, around 6' 2" as far as I could tell, broad shouldered and muscular with a slim waist and strong legs. Lightly tanned skin and dark brown, shoulder length hair and bright, almost piercing blue eyes.

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To describe exactly why my stomach coiled and my heart rate increased when I saw him would be like trying to explain why the earth is round, or why Oranges don't have a more original name, or why, no matter how much gel I use, I can never get my hair to look like that model in the advertisement with the skateboard.

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Let me first introduce myself. My name is Marcus Sinclair McManus. I am twenty-five years old, single and I live in Los Angeles. I work in advertising for a relatively small, but very successful and profitable agency called Sinclair McManus, which I also happen to own. I became the sole owner of this agency, founded by my parents Andrew McManus and Jennifer Sinclair, some three years ago, at the tender age of twenty-two, when both my parents were killed outright in a truly horrible automobile crash.

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