Your erotic stories

Note: Your comments or constructive criticism mean a lot to me. Feel free to leave me a private message if you'd like to share your thoughts, get updates on future chapters or receive a personalized photo of my cock. Statement of veracity: This is a true story. Well, everything up to the break point. I'll leave it to you to guess which of these is the full true story.

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I unpacked my clothes and supplies in the beachside condo and walked a block to the store. It was late afternoon and I was in a beer mood. I stood in front of the cold case going back and forth, trying to decide what to get. A man and woman were standing next to me talking and laughing about the selections.

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One day I bring you home to my place and introduce you to my friend Liz. She has just showered and still has a little water dripping off her hair and down her chest and into her gown. We sit down on the couch and chat for a bit while Liz goes and gets ready in the bathroom. While she is in the bathroom, I tell you all about the day me and Liz had together.

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Sweat dripped her brow. She smoothed her skirt over her nylon-clad thighs. Slender legs led to fuck me pumps underneath a cream-colored business suit tailored to show off her every curve. She looked one last time in the mirror, tugging her brown curls. She tucked one behind her ear before walking out of the bathroom and down the hall towards Bruce Callahan's office.

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Though he was twenty six years old Charlie still lived with his divorced mother; in her basement in fact, because he couldn't afford a place of his own. Charlie wanted to move out and get an apartment or perhaps rent a townhouse, but with his meager salary his prospects were not good.

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It's Friday afternoon and when my final class of the day ends I race back to my office to see if the email has arrived. I've been distracted all day in anticipation of finding out whether or not it's finally going to happen tonight. Logging in, I go straight to my inbox. Nothing. With a frustrated sigh I lean back in my chair, a stack of homework papers on my desk in front of me just waiting for grades.

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The week had been pure hell. Work was driving me up a wall, and I was beginning to fear that I would soon lose it. I had enough stress to supply the eastern seaboard for life. Anyway, it was Friday night, and I wanted to put the week behind me. I picked up dinner on the way home, and fought my way through the evening traffic.

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My daughter Faith had a brooding look on her usually sunny face. When she returned home from college for winter break, her mood alternated from surly to morose. My efforts to engage her in conversation failed and I tried every approach I knew as a professional therapist but she refused to open up.

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Trillions is where you go to get laid. It's not a private club, but you do have to look a certain way to get through the door. Well-groomed, is perhaps the most polite way to phrase it. I flatter myself that I do try and take care of my looks. While photographing models I've picked up a few hints and tips, and I'm not too modest to say that I've been mistaken for one of them on occasion. For your benefit, I'm five-seven tall in bare feet, trim figure, 34C bust, with shortish blonde hair. My eyes are clear blue, and I have very full, soft lips, or so I've been told.

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I admit it. I always wondered. Even before my first experience I thought about it more than once. Even though I thought about it I still tried to deny my desires, especially publicly. All guys have thought about it at one point or another. Many guys desire it but won't admit it. Only a few are strong enough to admit it and pursue it.

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