Your erotic stories

Five years ago my wife Sue and I left behind the dark, dank climate and the economic and political doom and gloom of England in search of a new life in the beautiful, peaceful and sunny Languedoc region of the South of France. Both of us are keenly interested in good food, cooking, and enjoying the odd glass or three of wine.

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I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away.

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If there was ever a reason to go to the salon to get my hair done every two weeks other than to enhance my beauty, it was to admire Beauty. Look at her, she is fine as hell! What I wouldn't do to get my hands on her locs, and I don't mean to twist them. Well actually, I would love to twist them and pull them and grab them and oh my bad, got lost in my thoughts.

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The bustling casino hummed with the sounds of success and Lou, the general manager, grinned as he walked past row after row of slot machines. People sat in nearly every chair and Lou, of all people, understood that despite the occasional cheers of a winner, every patron was contributing to his ever-growing empire. The game tilted in his favor, of course. Over the life of a slot machine, ten percent of every dollar put into it would go to Lou.

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Needing a break from things, I treated myself to a weekend in a luxury hotel on the coast. Arriving on Friday afternoon, I showered and dressed and went down to the lounge. It was quiet. Looking for company and some holiday fun, I left the hotel and strolled down the main street of the town, enjoying the warm evening air. There was music coming from a run-down looking pub and I went in. The bar was crowded and there was a band playing in the lounge. This was more like it.

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There are fifteen candles strategically placed throughout the room, one for every year they have been together. They lie on the bed, side by side. Their fingers are laced together and are wedged between their two steaming bodies. Beads of perspiration glisten upon his chest hair.

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It was late in the afternoon and there were only three people in our building at work. I know this because as one of the senior staff people, I had been assigned the task of working with the new security tracking system. Our insurance company had assigned all the employees with electronic keys that let us all in and out the doors. One of the claims managers had gotten a threat and with lawsuits today, the company had spent significant money to lock-down the building.

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As I drifted around the park, I thought about the argument Nick and I had just had. We seem to be having the same argument over and over again, more frequently these days. You see, after trying anything and everything, our sex life, while exciting, was still plagued with one major problem. I don't orgasm during sex. When I'm alone, it happens, but it always seems to elude me when Nick and I are making love.

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I believe martial arts saved my life. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) to be specific. It saved me from obesity, low self-esteem, and it even stopped a rape once. I love both the qualities on the inside that make me who I am and the way I look on the outside. But it took a while for me to get here. I grew up fat. No, not just fat. Obese. The problem started in about sixth grade and got worse through the cruel years of junior high and high school.

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My first sexual encounter with a man happened in the summer of 1965 with my cousin Bob. I was 18 at the time, Bob was 20 and a college man. Bob was almost 6 feet tall. Had an athletic build, jet black and square jaw. A rather good looking young man. I on the other hand standing at a towering 5'7" with blond hair and blue eyes, lean and lanky.

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