Your erotic stories

Growing up my sister and I had been really close. We were only separated by a year, so her and I were two peas in a pod. Then junior year of high school came around and I started seeing other guys, and my sister hit more of a standstill socially. She was awkward around guys, and actually seemed to enjoy her time more in the private confines of her girlfriends. I found it strange because most girls were looking to date, or at least find a guy to hook up with a practice on before college.

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I believe martial arts saved my life. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) to be specific. It saved me from obesity, low self-esteem, and it even stopped a rape once. I love both the qualities on the inside that make me who I am and the way I look on the outside. But it took a while for me to get here. I grew up fat. No, not just fat. Obese. The problem started in about sixth grade and got worse through the cruel years of junior high and high school.

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You know how I always watched you, as you walked into my room, still slightly wet on your return from the shower down the hall. My senior year in college, fourth year in the dorm, and I had never seen a boy as beautiful as you, one whose firm pecs taunted me as your cock strained against the work-out shorts you lounged around in, the tip pressing against the fabric, right in front of my face on the days I would look up from reading a book on my bed.

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My first time with another man. I have always considered myself straight, my entire life has been consumed by woman, I am attracted to them, I want them, I desire them and I have sex with them. But and this is big but, I have always had a fascination with cocks, ever since the first time I saw one as a teenager in the locker room.

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Hannah finished packing her things. The divorce was nearly finalized. The split was mutual, with no hard feelings. The 36 year old corporate executive closed the last box and stood in the bedroom she had shared with her soon-to-be ex husband. It was a sad ending to her fairytale life. One by one she carried the boxes away to her car. It wasn't as painful as she expected. She just didn't find the right person.

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I was trying my best to just flow with it, not think too much. I always think too much. Feel, just feel. Breathe, that's the key thing. Be sure to keep breathing. In and out. Nice and easy and smooth. I could get through this. And don't look! I couldn't look. I will soon, I promised myself. But not yet. Breathe.

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Several years ago, my wife and I vacationed in Europe for two weeks. I knew that Europeans tend to be more casual about nudity and sex than Americans are, but I was still unprepared (as was my wife) when we decided to visit a spa (called "bad") in Germany. We took a tram up the side of a steep hill to the top and looked down over a beautiful view and a large pool with an even larger deck. "Oh my God," my wife exclaimed as she saw that almost all of the women were lying topless on the deck or soaking that way in the pool.

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I met Jesse at a mutual friend's summer garden party. Moira was by some margin the poshest person I knew. As rich as god from family inheritances, she was married to a successful lawyer and was by some margin the social queen of the area where I lived.

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Peter Grandon sat moodily in his dorm room staring at his literature textbook and studying for finals. He had read the same passage four times and he still couldn't tell what the paragraph meant. His mind was elsewhere.

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I am the main character. I am 18 years old. My sister is Sally. She is younger than me but also 18 years old. We are both of the age to legal consent. Even though incest is still illegal anyway. Deeeerp. Now I tells story...

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