Your erotic stories

When you're eighteen and having overly erotic dreams, to whom do you talk? Your girlfriends? They'd laugh and want all the salacious details. Your boyfriend? He'd want to act it out, and that wasn't going to happen. Your mother? Yes, Denise could just see herself going to her mother to discuss erotic dreams. Not in this lifetime. She sighed as she went to bed. Maybe she wouldn't have any tonight.

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Despite my best efforts, thoughts of what I wanted to do to Michael kept clouding my mind. Maybe coming up with that fantasy about him hadn't been the best idea. Instead of clearing my head, now I was wishing even more that it would happen in reality. But the pressure was on with our project and I forced myself to focus on the job at hand. The next four days of the convention were really intense. It wasn't easy because the others all knew each other and had worked together in this type of situation before, and I was still the new guy in the group.

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Soft feet padded down the hallway toward where I was lying in the rec room. I heard them pause at the door. I knew that she saw me. I knew she wanted to sit by me. "Chuck?" her soft voice drifted across the room. "Yeah?" "Can I talk to you?" "You can come in, but you have to be quiet."

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On a very hot and unreasonably humid summer day around the middle of August, I found myself on the receiving end of Mrs. Nadine Broome's affections. I was mowing her lawn that day because their regular groundsman was off sick and word was getting about that my services were excellent and highly recommended. The lawn covered approximately 6 acres alongside the River Thames. In some ways it looked more like a bowling green than anything else, Rob always mowed and groomed it to perfection.

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Richard Secourt watched his television screen raptly, half in awe and half in amusement. Bouncing across the screen was an amazingly awesome blonde beauty with the biggest set of tits he had ever seen. She was wearing a one piece red swimsuit and running down the beach, and those immense jugs bounced up, down, and sideways. How she avoided putting an eye out was beyond him.

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It brought it all back to me but I never guessed anything like this would happen. Anyway you may have read Carl's first hand account of being caught with his pants down. Yea and that's an understatement. Anyway it was two years since I went on that biking holiday with Bobby and I had almost given up ever being able to fulfil what began that evening in the youth hostel.

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Goodness knows why I have this fetish, but I do have it, so I have to live with it. What is it? Well it's the desire to eat shit. It must be from a dominant female mistress and maybe it's more to do with being totally submissive than it is to do with the actual eating. I think this desire has been with me for a very long time and now I would like to tell you, how I turned desire into reality. I thought it wasn't possible to realise my desire until whilst browsing through a contact magazine I saw a mistress advertising Hard Sports.

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Andrew had recently got a new job. We were driving to spend Saturday with his new boss, John, and his wife. I had not met either of them and I knew I wanted to make sure that they liked me. Their house was about 45 minutes away from ours and on the drive I found myself daydreaming about the past. About my adolescence.

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As I approached the house I took a final deep breath in an attempt to steel my nerves. What I was about to do was so new to me, so wicked. I had heard about this house party from a very dear friend, and I knew that the secret longing deep inside of me could wait no longer to come out and play. All of my life I had suppressed the urge to share my body and to display myself. To give myself to many willing men, and hopefully at the same time.

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I met Brian Carmichael in early July. I remember this because it was almost a week after my fifth birthday. I was in the driveway of our yard, playing with a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer that my Uncle Jake had bought me for my birthday. I looked up and saw a small black dog (a Labrador retriever, I later found out) run across our lawn. The dog wandered over to me, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

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