Your erotic stories

A few months ago I met a guy called Edward and it turned out that, among his varied and chequered past, he'd been divorced and has a son in his late teens, just like me. His lad is called Ashley; he's eighteen and at university in Sheffield. My son is Jake who's nineteen and at Leeds. Edward is physically much larger and stronger than me; something I always enjoy in a man when we get to the bedroom.

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"And over here is the Exercise Room." The building manager, Kyle Poirer, led me thru the apartment laundry room and gestured me through a door on the far side. It couldn't be called a "gym", but the small room was well-equipped for a good workout. A stationary bicycle, a stair-simulator thing, a rowing machine, and the universal contraption of weights and pulleys. A few exercise mats lay on the carpet. A mirror spanned the west wall.

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It had been over a week since Alana had had her first bisexual experience with Rene, and Rene had been bugging her about it ever since. While Rene had a sex-drive that wouldn't quit and was openly bisexual, Alana had always been more conservative when it came to sex. She had tried some new things recently--things Rene would have considered ridiculously tame, like surfing Internet porn--but even her willingness to experiment was held back by her inability to land a date. Before, she had been just frustrated by all this. Now she was somewhat confused.

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I sat in my office and tried not to think about the last class I had just taught. I enjoy teaching, and this summer's group of bright, eager young faces was especially fun, a break from my regular routine of working in my field. One face was just too bright though. Rebecca. Tall and willowy, with long auburn hair and a graceful figure, she was just too attentive, too nice, and too eager.

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I was bartending at a restaurant I work at in a tourist town. One night an attractive couple came in and we enjoyed a nice chat. The womans name was Bridgette, and she had a French accent, very attractive with short, dark hair, a gorgeous smile on her painted lips. Her man, David, was a good looking guy, short curly hair, and a goatee. They were Canadian.

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She is not classically beautiful. Her face is rather flat with bland cheekbones, her lips do not have the fullness of a true beauty and her nose is rather podgy with slightly flared nostrils. She is though stunning to look at because of her eyes. They are large and delightfully, almond shaped in a deep, onyx green colour.

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I sat nervously in my hotel room, a large glass of single malt Scotch whisky in my hand. I stared at the selection of tights I had earlier laid out on the bed, wondering which Tom would prefer. Tom was 19 and lived locally to me but we had never met in person, we had begun chatting in an internet chat room and found similar interests in a fetish for tights.

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Sitting at the computer in my office, the problem wasn't solving itself. I needed a break. I ran my fingers through my hair, leaned back, stretched my arms, moaned audibly and then decided to take a walk. I pushed my chair back from my desk, stood up and headed for the door.

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I'm really lucky...I have hippy parents who had good business sense. We grew up comfortable, on the fringes. I got a great education, decided on some business classes and finally earned my massage and physical therapy degrees. My parents semi-retired from the Chinese supplement import business. I took over and maintained my practice on evening and weekends: I could afford to see only the clients I wanted.

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The following story depicts plenty of male and female bisexuality, plus several fetishes such as anal, spitting, cum swapping and smoking. If you are offended by the notion of sexual acts between two men please don't read this story. This chapter has been revised and expanded. More chapters will follow soon.

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