Your erotic stories

Thank you all for all the support! I didn't expect such a good reception to the first story, but because you asked, here's part two, continuing right where the first left off. Enjoy! * "Oh my God I can't wait! This is going to be so hot!" said Katie, taking off her clothes, leaving just her bra and panties on. I sat down at the computer and looked for the file. I paused as I felt Katie staring at me. "Not going to be much fun with all your clothes on, now will it?"

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I was almost asleep when the phone rang. I rolled over in bed and grabbed my cell phone from the bedside table. It was dark in the room but the light from the ringing phone flashed into my eyes, making me squint with discomfort as I struggled to see who was calling me. 'PRIVATE' was all my caller ID would say. At first I was about to ignore it and go back to sleep, but something told me that I should answer it. I flipped open the phone.

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I hadn't been to a concert in quite a while, so it was special when my wife surprised me for my birthday with tickets to go see one of my favorite bands. The concert was in another city, so she had planned a weekend trip. The band plays heavy metal, so we both dressed accordingly. I dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and my leather jacket. Sarah, my wife, looked great in a black t-shirt, black skirt, black stockings and matching boots. I wanted to jump her in the hotel room, but we didn't have the time.

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She answered the door to me wearing the same robe as the previous week, short and low cut leaving no doubt that she was naked underneath, the outline of her nipple bars clear to see. "Hi Marco, come in." "Thank you Mrs Morganite."

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Alice van der Poole loved her boyfriend. Really, she did. Ben was perfectly handsome, perfectly sweet, perfectly... bland. Every kiss was preceded with a gentle, "May I kiss you?" and followed by a whispered, "You're so beautiful." At night, Ben would tell her how precious she was, how delicate and sweet and lovely. His fragile, perfect little rose. Alice wanted to scream.

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I don't know how it happened. Nothing seemed out of place. The last thing I remember is getting out of the shower and drying my hair. That's when I saw him in my vanity mirror. A figure, clothed in black with a mask over his face, wrapping him arms around my shoulders and face. Then everything went black. I know I should call the police but...I don't know if I want to.

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I am constantly traveling. The work I do keeps me on the road all the time. Here I was in San Antonio. I was staying at the Omni Hotel, sitting on the corner stool at the lobby bar, having a beer and watching the basketball game. It was a quiet weeknight and there were maybe 15 people in small groups around the bar or scattered amongst the little bar tables.

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I lay back listening to the sound of my wife hungrily slurping away at my cock, as she did every day when I returned home and pondered how lucky I am. I married Margot, a spoiled daddy's girl from the right part of town used to getting what she wanted. Daddy being, of course, Clifton Meriwether Van Rijn, renowned shipping magnate, whom I had the opportunity to work for as a landscape consultant- a gardener for the less verbally dexterous.

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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school. Mike was a bit of a paradox. He was a soccer player who wasn't a jock, a metal head who wasn't a burnout, and a good student who wasn't a nerd.

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We were in the study of Professor Hendrick's house, in the late evening, nearing the end of the tutorial he was conducting. At least I assumed it was nearing the end, because I was very close to coming. We were in a straight chair facing his desk. Professor Hendricks, his hands wrapped around my waist was sitting in the chair; I was sitting on his hard cock—or, rather, fucking myself on his cock in slow risings and fallings and me moaning in tenor to his groaning in baritone.

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