Your erotic stories

Did I have enough nerve? After all, we were in my bedroom - just the two of us. We had reached a line. Do I cross it? It had taken a long time to get here as I stood at the foot of my bed with Brian holding a tube of lubrication in his hand he just found in my bedside table. He acted shocked. The question was he really shocked?

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Everyone on Craigslist can't be a creep, right? His post about introducing a woman to anal sex sounded very sincere. By the use of language, I'd gathered that this man was educated, thoughtful, perhaps even well spoken. If we'd met under other circumstances, we might find ourselves at the same end. But this was so much easier – I know what he wants, he knows what I'd like to try.

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My best friend Karl and I grew up together. We've known each other since we were babies. Our mothers were best friends and they got married about the same time and spent all their time together, so I think we were even changed on the same table and took baths together. We did everything together, we had all the same interests.

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Kendra pulled the note out of her pocket and read it again. Kendra, I'm sorry that I've hurt you. What we had was great. But, we both know that it's time to move on. I hope that someday you can look back on this and not hate me.

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The dance music was loud. The club was packed with sweaty bodies, and Karen was thirsty. She moved past gyrating bodies and through entangled couples. The dance club charged a lot for drinks, so she ordered a bottle of water and retreated to a corner. She sipped it and stared out at the dance floor. Karen was a twenty three year old senior in college, finishing up a Masters in communication.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading my first attempt at writing erotic fiction, "Unlikely Love". This is the first part of the story, so check back for updates. Also, please feel free to leave comments or suggestions; I would really appreciate them. Thank you. Tonight was like any other Friday night; paying off the bouncer to accept my fake idea and grant me access to the popular gay bar/strip club. Not that it was unusual.

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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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"Redhead by the bar," I nudged Michael. He raised his eyes, found her, then winced. "Too sexy for me?" He nodded, "Too sexy for you," then slowly sipped his soda. "I thought so." She looked again in my direction. I froze, caught staring for the umpteenth time. The first time I noticed her was earlier that night. I was sweeping the pub with my eyes when they landed straight on hers. She smiled, nodded discreetly, and turned away, leaving me confused and embarrassed, as if I had been the one snooping.

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The sky started clouding over as I found the cafe called 'Chances Are' down on Santa Monica Boulevard and pulled in. In 1974, I was nineteen, and had found a man in a swinger's ad magazine, and was here to meet him.

Inside, it was different than any other restaurant I frequented. The clientele was all men, not a woman in sight. I felt a shiver of guilt and fear as I waded into these unknown waters, looking around for a man in a black suede jacket with a large red book. That would be Gary. 

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Brad Halstead had never heard of the band Fountains of Wayne, but when he heard their song "Stacey's Mom" playing in his teenage daughter's bedroom memories of a wonderful time in his life flooded back. About fifteen years ago Stacey Keen was his best friend. There weren't many kids their age that lived close by, so they gravitated together much of the time. She was something of a tomboy and they played around the neighborhood together in the long, hot summers of their late teenage years. Stacey had short blonde hair and always wore torn jeans, worn tennis shoes and heavy metal t-shirts.

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