Your erotic stories

I remember the first night my roommate, Emily, went sleepwalking. I was having trouble falling asleep due to mid-term exams, stressing about my grades, and horny as hell because I hadn't had a date in f-ing forever since I wanted to focus on my studies. Emily was having troubles, too, but not with her schoolwork.

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Heather nuzzled into Conner's hand as he placed it on her cheek, and she looked up into the cornflower-blue eyes of the lithe-figured blond college junior as she cupped his balls with one hand and sucked on the bulb of his cock with her mouth. She was sitting on the foot of the bed in her university dorm room, just in her panties. Conner, pantless and briefless and his sport shirt open to expose his trim, but well-muscled torso, was standing between her knees and telling her what he wanted her to do next in the blow job she was giving him.

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As a psychology major, it never ceases to surprise me how deep human loathing can go. Often times the most screwed up ones are ourselves. For every ten people that you meet, eight hate everyone, six hate themselves, but blame everyone else, three loathe themselves with depths unfathomable, and one or two out of those ten will never let you know just how disturbed they really are.

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Every guy has had that one girl, the Wild One. The one that you probably still thinking about while fucking your wife twenty years later. The girl that your old buddies say "I wonder what happened to her. Probably ended up in porn or something." Lacey was that girl for me. We met as freshmen in college. She lived on the floor above me. I was first introduced to her by her roommate, Mary.

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We had just finished the last workout before tryouts, and I wasn't sure whether I had done enough to impress the coach. Maybe a little kissing up was in order? It was August, and I was one of dozens of incoming freshmen trying out for Big State's cheerleading squad. I had been the captain of my high school squad, and cheerleading was the highlight of my high school experience.

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Cindy and her younger sister Betsy were looking out the kitchen window. Cindy's son, Kevin, was swimming in the backyard pool. Kevin was climbing out from the water, totally nude. Cindy and Betsy had their eyes glued to his thin, tall body. Drops of water were dripping off of the tip of Kevin's cock.

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The door opened and I leaped forward, letting out an excited squeal like a teenage girl as I wrapped my arms around the girl who stood there, hugging her tightly. She returned both the hug and the squeal, both of us overjoyed at being together again after three months apart. We pulled apart and I just gazed at her face. Robyn! After all these months, I was finally seeing Robyn again!

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At fifty years old I consider myself to be in pretty good shape. With my wife, Nancy, being in the military she has to continually work out to stay in shape, and that tends to have a certain amount of carryover. I mean, I can't exactly build a workout room in the house with all that equipment and not feel guilty if I don't it. So, use it I do, keeping my 6' frame down to a hundred eighty-five pounds and in pretty good trim.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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My dear sisters: I have been asked to give a history of my experience with Priapus, and my part in the revival of his ceremony. I trust that this account will not leave the walls of this sorority house. Here, as best I can recall and recount it, is the story. When I was in college in the early seventies, it was a very different environment than it is today. We were all so much more innocent than girls are now.

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