Your erotic stories

I post the entire story each time so that people do not ask me to send them the earlier parts each time. The story is a work in progress that sometimes changes in addition to being added to. If you like the story please let me know. Thanks, Lynne

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Miranda walked from the restroom hallway back into the noisy, smoke filled dance club. As she turned the corner she glanced to her left and came to a sudden stop, eyes wide. The table in the corner, where all the rich girls from the college had been sitting was now nearly empty.

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My last client walked out the door. Thank god, this week was finally over. It's not that I didn't like my job, I did. In fact, I loved it. But after five days of listening to other people's problems it was definitely time for me to focus on my own needs. It was Friday night and I was looking forward to a fun weekend. The potential was there.

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I'm a 32-year old male, happily married, with a very satisfying sex life. When my wife and I are in bed together, we entertain each other with stories—fantasies and otherwise—about sexual escapades. We consider sharing fantasies to be nothing more than foreplay even though some of our ideas get pretty wild. I get turned on imagining watching her getting thoroughly screwed by someone and my description of such an affair turns her on, too.

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"Ugh, I just wanna kiss someone tonight! Is that so much to ask for my birthday?" Sean said with a jokingly frustrated tone as we stood in line to get drinks. "Then do it!" I replied, encouraging him to go approach one of the hotties on the dance floor. Before I could register what had happened, Sean leaned in close and planted a wet kiss on my lips.

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Will paced back and forth in his dressing room as he recited the lines over and over to himself. Tomorrow was the first day of shooting; the first day he had to make a whole audience of people believe he was gay. It's not that he had anything against gays, or that he felt like he was above them, but he had a sort of disconnect, and wondered if this role was beyond his talents. He sat down at his table, in front of the mirror, and stared at his very blond hair. It was quite a different look for him, and he wasn't entirely sure it suited him.

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Jay Williams loved living in the mountains. He loved waking up to the scent of pine. He relished how his cabin floorboards creaked under his footsteps. Even the early-morning chill only soothed by building a fire was refreshing. Nothing compared to chopping wood by the glow of the sunrise. Most of all, he treasured the isolation. He hadn't always lived alone. There was a time when he woke cradled in another man's arms. But that chapter of his life was over now. That man was gone, and he was never coming back.

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It was a hot Saturday night in the summer of 1971 and the bathhouse was throbbing. A guy I knew from school at San Francisco State, had suggested the visit after we'd struck out with a couple of secretaries at Perry's Bar on Union Street. They'd teased us right up until closing time, and then given us the slip. We found ourselves on the sidewalk as the bar closed, high and horny.

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i. Inside the cell, on the top bunk, a heart shaped box of pink mints lay on the naked stained mattress. A note next to the box said, "Be my girl". The guard looked from the note to Kyle's pretty face. Kyle knew he was in trouble. "Welcome to Purgatory, boy," the guard said with a smile fit for Hells' gatekeeper. He slammed the heavy cell door, leaving Kyle to the cruel hands of the twisted God who ruled this place.

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