Your erotic stories

LeRoy was sitting on the porch, rocking and rubbing the head of that old hound dog of his, as Dinah walked up the stone path from the mailbox at the edge of the muddy road. She had walked slow up from the bus stop in the nearest town, at the mouth of a fold back into the Blue Ridge. The suitcase she was lugging, balanced on the other side by her guitar case, was heavy, but she wasn't walking slow because of that weight. She was weighed down by something more serious than that.

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I heard my name being called out from the midst of the teeming horde pressing in on the barriers after customs in New Delhi's Indira Gandhi international airport, and a head and arm waving a sign was bouncing up and down over the tumult. The sign the young man was carrying said "Clifford Jenkins" with "New York" written under it. That was me. But I wasn't being met by anyone that I knew of.

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The first time Kevin Roach was mistaken for Tommy Ross he was in the White Lion. The mistake's maker approached him when he was at the bar, getting in a round of drinks for himself and his workmates. She had bobbed red hair and neat, pretty features and she wore a T-shirt displaying her allegiance to the rock band White Noise.

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Authors note - Thankyou for taking the time to read my work, i know this chapter is fairly short, but it is only the introduction to the story about how Joe and Jacob meet. Enjoy. * It was mentally exhausting, and that's without adding how physically exhausting it was to push yourself every day, into something that felt so impossible.

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Neal wasn't the sort of guy people noticed much. He could walk through a room of people talking—even a room full of people he knew—and get to the other side without being greeted or noticed. He could have conversations with strangers and then the stranger wouldn't recognize him if they met again. He was a guy of no standout talents, no distinctive looks other than being smaller of stature than his age. He wasn't ugly; he was just plain and forgettable—and a little scrawny.

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I closed my lips over Sir Guy's cock and pushed his foreskin down with them, my tongue going to opening and flicking down into his piss slit as my mouth slowly took more and more of him inside the moist warmth of my mouth cavity. He sighed contentedly and ran his fingers through my hair. He reached up and pulled my cock down to his lips and started returning the compliment.

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You gotta see your husband's fabulous new office, was the way he'd put it. Even now the words ring in my ears as I masturbate to climax on lazy afternoons. Frank Finlay was Peter's new boss. Peter's my husband -- a kind, good looking, trusting soul. Perhaps it is his trusting ways that are the cause of this.

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"And a ten-inch cock." "You're shitting us now," Oliver said. "Yes, I'm shitting you," Porter answered. "But, really, I would want him to have a nice cock on him." "Well, high on my list is that he has to be willing to take out the trash without being asked to," Adrian interjected.

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The bus ride started out innocently enough, but then most major events do. If anyone really knew what was going to happen to them at the end of the day—or night for that matter—would they board the bus, or would they stay home? Would you drink that last glass of wine and stumble out into the rain with only a knee-length vinyl rain slicker to cover your nudity, or would you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain on the roof? I'd probably do it all over again.

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I was at Steve's place having a beer and a chat; I heard the front door open, and the voices of Steve's wife Judy and daughter Becky came in. They had been out to measure up some things in a flat that Becky had bought. Both came in and I stood up to say hi, I receive the usual kiss on the cheek, and hug from Judy and then from Becky as well, as she said, jumping up and down, "Hi Bob, nice to see you, it's been a while, how you doin?"

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