Your erotic stories

Jude had gotten through the second set at The Spot in Chelsea the same way he had gotten through all of Logjam's concerts in the last two decades—riding a high on the music, the roar of the crowd, beer, and poppers. If the proportion of beer and poppers had been relentlessly creeping up over the last fifteen years, it had been too gradual for Jude to notice it, or too scary for him to acknowledge it.

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I waved down the waiter as I finished off my glass of wine. I asked for the check and scanned the room while I waited. The hotel restaurant looked bigger this early in the evening when it was relatively empty. Besides myself there were two other patrons, both male. One looked to be in his late forties. The man at the bar looked to be my age or younger. And he definitely caught my eye. He was about six feet tall with short black hair and a firm tanned body. His suit looked expensive and it fitted his slim figure like a dream.

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Simon's hands automatically went to my waist, slipping low to cup my ass in his palms. I'd already pushed him past the point of no return, but he was still trying to reclaim control of the situation, feebly asserting his authority. "Amy—we can't," he said. "We said we wouldn't." Even if there had been conviction in his voice, the presence of his hands on my ass and the way his mouth opened against mine, his hot breath filling my mouth, made his true feelings clear. I felt a little guilty for pushing him, but not enough to stop.

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