Your erotic stories

His name was Roland and he was from Jamaica. I'm guessing he was about 30. He had deep ochre skin, eyes that were almost black, closely-cropped hair, and was tall, lean and very graceful. At one point in his life he'd been a dancer, but was now a set designer for one of the larger theater companies in Amsterdam. He was just a little bit effeminate, and overtly gay.

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Room for Rent 2: The Party My last day with Gary and Jack was a Saturday. And this Saturday was like most others in this household. I woke up, washed my face and brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs for breakfast – naked. As usual, I found my housemates in the kitchen waiting for their morning blowjob. They were both glorious in their nudity…their semi erect cocks begging for attention.

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Mack Thompson had just returned to his hotel room following an intense workout at the fitness center and swimming pool. He was in town for a conference and had arrived a day early. At 30 years old he was the picture of health and could have been the poster guy for a fitness club. Mack stood at 6'2" and weighed a chiseled 190 pounds. He had light brown hair that he always kept short and hazel eyes. He loved to play golf, ski and swim in addition to his routine gym workouts.

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Derek and Jackson were relaxing one night mindlessly watching the tube, when, out of the blue, Derek said, "I wish I could get my dick sucked." Jackson replied, "That was random, Dude. What's going on between those ears? Derek continued, "You know what I mean, Dude. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to really get a great blowjob? Not like the girls we hang with.

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My girlfriend, Julia, had given me a gift certificate for a massage. I wasn't sure what to expect but I tried it. I arrived and was given forms to fill out. Then I was taken back to a room by a very good looking young woman. She was petite with long red hair, nice tits and great legs. She told me to get undressed.

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Five o'clock was here and none too soon. This particular Tuesday had been a madhouse at work. Working at my computer terminal, answering the phone and talking to colleagues, often all at the same time, had taken its toll. My back and shoulders ached, and, to make matters worse, I'd overdone it at the gym during lunch hour on Monday. In a word, I was sore. The only good thing was that now it was time for my monthly massage therapy appointment. My spirits rose as I drove toward the small apartment that served as Randy's office.

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I'm out running alone, along the river road. It's a beautiful warm sunny day out, and I'm feeling great. Wearing a T-shirt and a pair of tight black spandex shorts. I stop to stretch at an overlook, and feel the sweat bead up and run down my tight leg. If only there was someone else there who appreciated the sight. "Having a good workout?" asks a masculine voice behind me.

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Scott Griffin pulled his blue Ford Mustang into a parking space just to the left of the loading dock of Stonewall Hall. At least six cars were battling for spaces closer than his to the door in the loading area, but he didn't care. He was only a little farther away but he could walk his bags in the little extra distance. He wouldn't have to deal with the pushy parents and students in the area as well. College was something he looked forward to, but people in crowds drove him crazy.

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"Shit! I'm so gonna be late for practice." Jeremy Tryon was stuck on the highway in a traffic jam. More than likely a bunch of people who were going to the same place he was. At least he didn't have to unpack when he got there. He would just check-in, change into some workout clothes and run down to the track. He could still do it. He pulled into the back of the Stonewall Hall loading dock.

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It was the annual benefit picnic for the VFD, and it was hot. A hundred degrees in the shade, and record-shatteringly humid. As my wife and I sat listening to the band and sucking down the lemonade, a strange sensation came over me. Usually I was not a hot weather person, but this extreme heat felt like a sauna, and as I got used to the sweat, I started feeling the stirrings of desire. My wife was here to hobnob with her friends, though, and I knew she would not be receptive at this place and time.

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