Your erotic stories

The phone rang once. I groaned, stirring from dreams as deep as the blue eyes I had been dreaming about. The phone rang twice. I sat up and gave the phone two middle fingers. The phone rang again. "FUCK!" I shouted, lunging myself across the silk sheets to pick the damned thing up.

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I was on business in the Fire Island area of New York. Checking into a small motel I was surprised to see the small, old, Jewish-looking man behind the counter, in effect, checking me out. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or get annoyed by his eyeing me and smiling at me in what could only be described as a leering way.

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