Your erotic stories

Liam knew he owned the school. He was the best football player this small local college had seen in years and there was even talk of him trying to go pro. He had his pick of all the girls on campus; life was good. Except for one little problem. His US History professor was tough. He didn't even help the athletes out. In the tiny town in the south, most of the athletes were white, so there was no talk of any racial discrimination by this professor, but he discriminated against guys who were young, talented, handsome and played sports.

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Well I guess that it’s now or never. We’re finally going to do it I suppose, and I can’t wait. My wife Belinda and I have always talked about expanding our sex life for a long time. Lots of pillow talk and suggestive comments, but never the thought of going through with it until now. I don’t know what’s different about now, other than we both feel confident that it will be a positive thing.

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Needless to say, I was enjoying my hot times with "Grandma" Anna and "Grandpa" Frank. I called my real grandmother to tell her that I was extending my stay by a couple of days, maybe even a week. "Ok, baby," grandma said on the phone. "I miss you, honey. But it's ok. Patty DeLay's husband just died, so I'm spending a lot of time with her. But come home soon. I need you." I agreed and hung up the phone.

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Mai was ready for another new experience. Something she'd fantasized about with me, and even before we met. We hadn't planned this, but we were ready for it, and the timing was perfect. Mai is a tall Nordic natural blonde, slender but statuesque, and she's very good looking. Long thick lustrous hair, with natural highlights of silver and pale auburn, a beautiful face with glacial blue sparkling eyes.

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If there was ever a reason to go to the salon to get my hair done every two weeks other than to enhance my beauty, it was to admire Beauty. Look at her, she is fine as hell! What I wouldn't do to get my hands on her locs, and I don't mean to twist them. Well actually, I would love to twist them and pull them and grab them and oh my bad, got lost in my thoughts.

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"Taxi! Taxi!" Sabrina Kelley waved her hand furiously as the icy Manhattan wind whipped through and around her bones. The New York skyline was rapidly approaching dusk and the evening forecast predicted a heavy round of snowfall in just a matter of hours. Though there was no one there to greet her or make her feel at home, Sabrina desperately wanted to make it back to her hotel room before the bad weather began.

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I had met a really nice African-American guy named Karl for some hot sex. I was travelling for business and was satisfying my bi desires on these trips. I had met Karl through a gay chat room and we had a great hook-up. We promised to meet up again when I had to visit his city again. (See "My First BBC" for the story of how I hooked up with Karl.) 

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Sharon and I have been married close to seven years now, and for the most part it's been great. The sex isn't as plentiful or varied as it was at first, but I gather that's par for the course. I've never felt the need to have sex with anyone else, unless you count Bruno. I consider myself completely straight, but a while back I bought a dildo (that's Bruno) and I like to use it on myself whenever I get a chance. Even that had purely heterosexual origins.

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Hot morning sun blistering one side of my cheek, along with the sound of a shrieking bird outside my window as I lay on my bed woke me up. I scrambled to the floor, forgetting for the moment, in my sleepy state, that it was Sunday and I didn't have to go to work. Looking at the clock on the bedside table I saw that it was eight thirty. I felt like going back to bed but habit got the better of me. Growing up, I had heard my late dad on numerous occasions speak on the virtues of early rising, claiming that persons who liked to sleep late got nowhere in life. I usually got up at around 5:45 to 6:00 am to start preparing for work.

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I passed by the old façade several times a week. The old neon sign reading "Paris Cinema" above the old marquis that simply had the word "Adonis". No movie name, just that one single word to let people know (the right people) what was going on inside.

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