Your erotic stories

The summer was only half over and I missed Shauna. We had been keeping in touch both by phone and e-mail, but I decided a trip to Vegas was in order. I decided to give Shauna a call and ask her if it would be OK. "How about some company one of these days?" "Are you serious?" "I think its time for a little trip. Don't you?"

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My new tenant is such a joy to have around. Take right now, for instance. This is my day off and as I write this story he is under my desk curled up keeping my feet warm like a good housecat. Later, he'll help me get ready for my date. Then, if and when I make it back, he'll be waiting to take care of all my illicit desires.

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Dave Rollands, is a 30 something year old, lean built, 5’11” happily married man. He is wearing what he usually wears when he goes out with the guys on Thursday nights: sneakers, jeans, and buttoned shirt. He has two secrets. One of them is wearing the frilly white French cut panties with the sexy, white stockings carefully hidden underneath his manly clothes.

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My lover has an Afrikaans accent. His breath whispers against my neck as he speaks gruffly in my ear, pinning me to the living room wall. I push my behind into his groin as he cups my tits, groaning he is "so glad he met me." It's a rainy summer's night, all sticky and we're slick with sweat. We're both in singlets, he's in jeans and I can feel his thick length as he nestles it between my shorts clad cheeks.

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Funny it happened when we tried "The Invisible Man." I've always wondered about that. Everybody's tried auto-blow, bending into a pretzel, trying to suck your own cock. Everybody's tried it, especially when younger. A flexible guy like my Chuck-o can lie back, roll his hips up, bring his feet back over his head, knees to his chest, and get his own dick down between his lips. Gives himself a blowjob.

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Paul's a mate of mine. He's a genuine nice guy and that surprises people when they find he's a mate of mine. Most people think I'm a bit of a bastard, but Paul doesn't mind that. He just says that's who I am. Like I said, a genuine nice guy. Like me, he's in the building trade. Difference is, he's concreter, where I'm a carpenter.

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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.

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I had been doing some contract work for a large multinational company and had the pleasure of dealing with a young legal secretary who had only been with the company a few months. Angela was in her early twenties and quite petite with lovely natural blonde hair and a great little body. She dressed a little old for her age, but always looked immaculate in her business wear, sometimes wearing a suit with a skirt and fine tan pantyhose.

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My name is Tanya, and I'm a chat room addict. It all started last year when I went on Facebook to reconnect with friends from all stages of my life. It was so much fun to find people and update each other on what had been happening in our lives. And that's when I started to chat. Chat really opened up the world for me. Faster and easier than a phone call. You could even chat while on the computer doing work or other stuff. Chat with friends all over the country and see their pictures. So I really got into it big time.

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Girls like her should come with warning labels, the kind you see on coffee these days, Caution: Hot. This girl was molten. I, of course, had no clue just how right I was, but I would of course be schooled quickly.

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