Your erotic stories

I met Lynne for a drink after work. She said she wanted to talk to me about something which means that she more than likely has a match for me. Lynne runs a lesbian match making service. As long as both parties pay the fee for the match it is not legally prostitution. I pay a very small fee and my matches almost always pay a very hefty fee which Lynne and I split 50—50. That comes really close to prostitution and when you factor in the tips that I get, well . . . .

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I would like to tell you of an extraordinary episode in my life. It was a time of growth and transformation, a sort of rite of passage if you will, that began when I met an amazing woman named Claire just a few days after my 24th birthday. She lived on the same floor as me in an apartment building that also housed a big indoor swimming pool. It was there that we first met. She was then, by the way, 68 years old.

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Stretched out on your couch you look so sexy, so confident, and so proud of your masculinity. Your cock is beginning to swell because you know what's coming; we've done this so many times we've lost count. We aren't in a hurry; there is no need to rush. No one knows what we share. I'm seated comfortably across from you, still clothed, gazing at you - your manhood. Drinking in the beauty of your lovely cock!

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The young waiter smiled and felt his pants tighten and his bulge tingle as the two women emerged from the tennis courts to sit at one of his tables of the hotel's outdoor bar slash café. Nice, he thought. I'd love to give either one of them a fuck before I go home tonight. Maybe both.

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I took a long sip of my dirty martini and leaned into the bar, staring resentfully down towards the end of it. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan, was still engaged in conversation, feeding his ego with clever banter. I noticed the familiar animated expressions, grand gestures, and overly enthused laughter that captivated the small crowd of people he was talking to. I sighed heavily, and settled back onto my bar stool and played with the spear of olives in my drink.

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The cigarette burned my fingers, damn it, how long had I been holding it without taking a drag. The tiny filter slipped from my fingers and sparked briefly as it came to rest on the ground, on the hard pavement outside the apartment complex. I had been watching the complex for what, two hours now? What did it matter, I filled my lungs with the midnight air and felt enriched by its scent.

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Miranda had just turned twenty-one. With hazel blue eyes, soft blonde shoulder length hair, and a smile that made most men melt, Miranda had been looking forward to this particular weekend for quite some time. Her two very best friends, Joey and Frank had been talking about taking her out for a night on the town for her birthday celebration. She had known Joey and Frank for years, never intimate with either of them, though they had certainly flirted and teased one another on several occasions.

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Paul looked at the glowing screen of his computer. He was the last to leave the office and had taken the opportunity to log on to the internet and surf for some adult sites. As this was his first job after leaving college, he had not been able to afford his own computer. At home he'd used his father's but since the argument, where Dad had almost literally thrown him out, Paul had not returned home.

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I think The Kingston Trio said it first. But then Frank Sinatra said it more eloquently, moving it from a major key to a minor key. 'When I was twenty one, it was a very good year. A very good year for city girls who lived up the stairs.' And, yes, not only did the city girls live up the stairs, but they also - as Frank observed - had 'perfumed hair'. (Hairspray, I presume.) And it did come undone - the hair, that is - when I was 21. But we'll get to that in a moment or two.

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My wife Alexis, along with wives and girlfriends of a few of my friends had been complaining that the guys always got together to play poker, but the women never had a "Ladies Night" out. So a few weeks ago they finally planned one. I agreed to watch the baby and all the guys came over to watch the Pacquiao fight.

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