Your erotic stories

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.

read more

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.

read more

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.

read more

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.

read more

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.

read more

I see Sean four mornings a week at the gym. He runs the treadmill and I swim, but our schedules are close enough that we arrive at nearly the same time and finish our workouts a few minutes apart. I thought this a coincidence, at first. But I knew better when I got to know him, and learned to appreciate him in unimaginable ways.

read more

I was meeting close friends John and Ryan at the club. They were bringing Mark, a friend of John's from university who'd recently moved to the city. That might sound like they were trying to hook us up but I'd never needed their help. They knew I'd end the evening with him anyway, as long as he was reasonably good-looking. He was better, but much too controlled for my tastes. The green-hazel eyes were calm and probing, all at the same time, the mouth with its thin upper lip and full lower lip didn't get a lot of exercise as if he thought through every thing before he spoke, not a single blond strand out of place.

read more

The name's Piper. Peter Piper. But I don't pick pecks of pickled peppers. I solve cases. I'm a private dick. That's a detective for those of you who don't know the lingo. A private eye. It was a miserable Friday afternoon. Cold, damp, foggy. The weather was foul. And so was my mood. My bank account was dwindling at an alarming pace. I hadn't had a case in weeks. I was sitting behind my battered desk in my shabby office on the second floor of the Burke building, downtown. Way downtown. I was sitting there and I was worrying. If something didn't happen soon, I was in deep shit. I had bills to pay.

read more

Moodily I stared out the train window. The day before Christmas Eve. On the platform of the Boston station, couples reunited, kissing and hugging. Mothers cried and clung to fresh boys in uniform as they headed off to basic training. The war had changed things; the place was somber and not decorated much for Christmas this year.

read more

"I think it's wreckage of a ship. From the storm last night. It's not strange to find ship wreckage on the Cefalu beach after a tempest like that." Two scouts, on their regular patrol along the Adrano coastline while the forces of the Prince of Madness sought to invade the island nation, had stopped on the beach, their attention arrested by shattered ship planking and tangles of shredded sailcloth washing up in the surf.

read more