Your erotic stories

"First the tide rushes in, plants a kiss on the shore . . ." Matt often started a set with something quiet and slow, like "Ebb Tide," when there was a convention or two in the hotel, like there was today—electricians and bankers. What a combination. Something quiet tended to settle and quiet them down to the point that he could stand it.

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Surprise Sexual AwakeningThe hand woke me up. Moving gently up and down my side as I lay in bed. I was groggy but it felt good. Was it my girlfriend? No, I didn't have a girlfriend, I hadn't had one for months. I thought I had gone to bed alone but now someone was in here with me, touching me. I wanted to turn over and see who it was but I was enjoying the feeling too much, especially as it moved downwards over my ass and then down my leg.

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I picked my way through piles of corrugated tin, broken toilets, and lawnmower parts and came to a halt when I saw the blue uniforms and the wheel-less old Lincoln Town Car, with the smashed-in engine compartment, sitting on concrete blocks. Mullins had said it was an Inevitable Case when he'd called me, but I'd never get used to seeing the various ways that could play out. What we referred to as an Inevitable Case was a street whore or hustler some john or pimp had taken for that final ride.

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God, he was big; one of the biggest. Shit, he could fuck. Panting, panting, I grabbed the metal legs of the cot on either side in a death grip, my cheek pressed into the rough woolen blanket, my eyes bugging out and my mouth slack and open in a silent scream, as he drove it harder, deeper inside me. Cruel. Rough. Just what I wanted. Just what I needed.

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Christmas eve was good for me, I had some friends round and after a few drinks ended up being the last guy still awake with an old school friend of mine. I don't remember how it started as there had been some drinking and some bragging and boasting which lead to dares and challenges. I knew he had a wide taste when it came to sex, he made no secret of that, but I had never even touched another guy, even if the thought had entered my mind before many times.

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It started with my first job after leaving school, as an assistant gardener-cum-handyman at a local stately house. I was interviewed by a rather handsome man in his fifties called Clive, and we seemed to hit it off right away, and I figured that must have helped me get the job. It seemed the ideal way to get a foothold into the whole gardening/landscaping industry, and after my first couple of days I knew I'd really landed on my feet. 

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Our wives had been lovers for a couple years. They had discovered the delights that only a woman can give to another and had been taking every opportunity to share it with one another. We both had attractive wives with large, soft breasts and more than adequate sexual appetites. Despite the similarities between us there were some differences: Nick was a very scholarly academic type, highly-educated with the usual detachment of someone with multiple graduate degrees. I've always been a very blue collar practical type: doing my own auto and home repairs.

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I got a simple question. You ready? I mean, where does it say the little guys always got to lose? That don't make no sense. Okay, take my case. I live on the Gulf Coast, meaning Nature somehow don't seem on our side. If ya'll live in the Gulf, you know what I'm saying. Thanks to BP and the ol' corporate greed, we got a whole lifestyle around here starving away.

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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong === I arrived at my office the next day to find an envelope on my desk with my name written on it in neat, if rather florid, handwriting. It read "Robert" which was slightly odd because everyone at work calls me Rob.

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The phone's catcall squirmed its way under the covers. The ringing passed over the hills and valleys of Aurelio's fluffy black comforter and worn green sheets. The sound found the soft corners of his skull and nestled in there, curled around itself like a small dog and settled down for the wait.

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