Your erotic stories

I had been on the internet for more than three hours, talking to a beautiful woman named Mary. She was hesitant at first, but eventually we shared photos and talked about our fantasies. She loved the name I was given at birth, "Vincent". It reminded her of simple times.

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I'm sure that we all remember our first time. We remember with fondness the guy that made us feel accepted and special. We remember our first love, so deep it hurt to be apart and nearly killed us when it ended. So many memories, tucked neatly in the files of our minds waiting to be savored like a fine wine in a passing moment. I shared the story of my first time with you awhile back and received so many wonderful comments.

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Getting out of his car, Mark turned to look at his sister, Katie, shaking his head. Once more she had talked him into another crazy idea and he couldn't quite figure out how she'd done it. Ever since they had been young children, his twin had the uncanny ability to bat her eyes at him and get him to do her biding. He contemplated getting back into his car and going back home, but his sister stopped him before he'd completed the thought.

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I had finally returned to the grounds of Oakton Park to scatter Luke's ashes.

We had spent the last two months of Luke's life in a small cottage in the grounds of the main house, and it had been Luke's wish that the grounds should be the final resting place for his ashes. I had wanted them to go somewhere that I could return to to mourn him. But in those last weeks he had been insistent. And I couldn't break the promise he had forced me to make to him.

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"Remember, sex onstage is illegal. This isn't fucking Amsterdam. You can jerk yourself off a little, play with the other guys' cocks, but if you cum, it's all over. Got it? No blowing your load. No oral. No penetration of any kind. Not that the other guys'd let you—they're professionals and a lot of them're straight. Got it?"

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Shane and I had known each other in college for 3 years. We were both tired of our roommates this year. Shane complained about his playing music late into the night while he tried to study. Mine was worried he would miss class so he woke up 3 hours early for his first class which was 3 hours earlier than I had to get up and was a slob.

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"I think he's signaling to you, sugar." I'd stopped to talk to the two guys who regularly positioned themselves at the corner of 4th Street Northwest in Albuquerque and the alley in which I temporarily resided in a cardboard carton. I hadn't been there long following a relocation from Las Vegas and, although I'd found some work as a gofer on a high-rise construction project downtown, I didn't have near enough funds yet to rent a room—or even to have three squares a day.

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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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I was playing some basketball down at the gym the other day with a bunch of my buddies. We had a great game, strenuous, but fun. Afterword, instead of hitting the showers, Cody and I just stayed in our gym trunks and t-shirts and I went out for a couple of beers. Cody's a great guy. A 31 year old divorced stock broker, 6'4" tall and chiseled out of granite. We'd been work out buddies on occasion and the one time I'd actually seen him with his shirt off, I thought he looked like a fuckin' marine, very lean muscular build.

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I watched as Dee slipped a short bright red dress over her head and pulled it down her body. She sat down next to me and pulled on her matching high heel shoes. She turned to me and lightly kissed me with her full lips. "I'm ready to go." she said and stood up.

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