Your erotic stories

Sometimes I wish I'd kept track of just how many times I've been in my favorite coffee shop. Surely it was in the hundreds by now. Somehow they survived the invasion of chain coffee shops, probably because they always had some vegetarian food and fresh soup ready for the college kids. It was an odd layout that only a small town without city planning can create.

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The phone rang once. I groaned, stirring from dreams as deep as the blue eyes I had been dreaming about. The phone rang twice. I sat up and gave the phone two middle fingers. The phone rang again. "FUCK!" I shouted, lunging myself across the silk sheets to pick the damned thing up.

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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