Your erotic stories

I had been chatting with a guy, lets call him Kurt, online for a little bit. He seemed nice and chill and was into me being a bit nervous and wanting to go at my own pace. I'd been fucked in the ass twice before and had experiences that made me want to try more. I also really enjoyed playing with toys. My first two times were with guys that were smaller and I wanted to try moving up in size.

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It's funny how things that are so horrible when you first encounter them become normal and even desirable. Days flowed into weeks since that night when I first developed a taste for blood. God, it was revolting – at first. Then it became bearable. Then I found myself growing restless, fucking whomever Zeph wanted me to fuck, doing whatever he wanted me to do just as long as I got to taste him when it was over. What a horrible addiction – but I needed it. I needed that sweet metallic taste on my lips.

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I'm really lucky...I have hippy parents who had good business sense. We grew up comfortable, on the fringes. I got a great education, decided on some business classes and finally earned my massage and physical therapy degrees. My parents semi-retired from the Chinese supplement import business. I took over and maintained my practice on evening and weekends: I could afford to see only the clients I wanted.

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Working away from home for a couple of days with a hunky, straight guy Ron finds that alcohol allows him to get something extra from his colleague. * "It'll mean staying away for a couple of nights," the foreman said. "It's a pain especially when the weather's so fucking bad but the job needs doing and you and Joe are the only ones free."

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Most weekends I go down to Hong Kong – I've got a "Fuck Buddy" there who's also into piss play. He's a very hot flight attendant and Asian like me. We're not exclusive – both of us play with others and I'm also in a long term relationship back home (Australia).

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Karl stared at the phone in his hand after flipping it closed. "Well this might be an interesting trip home after all," was the statement he made to the air in his empty living room. He had just finished up a three hour long, catch-up conversation with someone from his past. Someone he had shared more than just a dorm room and later a frat house double with at college. Much more. Much, much more.

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It had all started innocently enough. We had just finished the gig when Bill came up and offered to buy us both a drink. To be honest I couldn't remember his name at first, but Julie my partner and vocalist, whispered it into my ear as Bill went to the bar. Julie's much better than me at remembering names, and has often got me out of embarrassing moments.

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It started out as just another Saturday night – me, Terry, Jezza and a few other lads going out into Luton for a few beers and a bit of fun. Then Terry mentioned some gay celebrity he'd seen mincing about on TV before he came out, and we were into the usual shared rant about how queers were taking over, and soon it'd be compulsory to take it up the arse.

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Three months after I qualified as a sports physiotherapist/masseur, I started my own practice at home until I could find work with a sports club or association. I was enjoying a quiet coffee in the café and reading the daily paper when my mobile phone rang. A man's voice enquired about the possibility of getting a massage.

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It was Friday night and the phone rang. I picked it up and was surprised to hear that it was my wife's therapist. I knew about him, of course, but had never met or even spoken to him. He knew Sue was out of town for the week, so I was really caught off guard, and immediately worried by his call.

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