Your erotic stories

I couldn't sleep one night. It was about four A.M. So I went into the living room to watch a little porn. I was hoping to jerk off and go back to sleep. However right as I was getting good and hard watching a really nice video of two young guys jerking each other off. I heard voices in front of my house. I got scared and put away my cock in my boxer briefs and slipped on a T-shirt.

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The pain was fighting with the pleasure; the fear with the exhilaration. The struggle for the dominant sensation was sending my adrenaline through the roof. God, I was skipping along the top of the clouds. Shit, I was skimming the searing flames of hell. Pain, pleasure. Pleasure, pain. Right there on the edge. Would he love me or kill me? Would he fulfill my desires? Or would he take me to the edge of release only to abandon me to want and frustration? Either way, this was the edge that made me feel alive. This . . . this . . . this, right here, right now.

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It had been a hot and dusty ride from Kansas into Colorado en route to my new posting as the postal agent and sutler at Fort Hayden. I'd ridden all day with the Rocky Mountains tantalizingly near without having reached the river they told me was still more than a day's ride out from the fort. I now saw the river ahead, cool and inviting, but I knew I wasn't going to make Fort Hayden today.

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We were sitting down on the only couch available. Marco’s knees were bent, with his right ankle resting atop his left knee. I was further to left and facing him when I straightened my leg and that’s pretty much all it took. Searching for a place to rest my weary feet, instead, I encountered the inside of his firm jean-clad thigh. Indeed, quite by chance, I stretched my calf by pointing my heel and that drew my toes back over the delectable curve of his crotch.

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Everybody's got a first time story. Being a 33 year old divorced guy, I thought all my firsts were long gone. You know, my first blowjob, my first fuck, my first older woman, my first three-way; I'd had some good times but I figured the rest of my sex life would be pretty run of the mill. On the downhill slide you could say.

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If you told me a couple of years ago that I'd one day be having sex with a man, I would have laughed in your face. I'm straight. I've always been straight. I was married for eight years and have always loved dating women. I love women, the way they look, the way they smell and the way that they feel. I love to eat pussy and always will.

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Perhaps I gave in so easily because Lenny embodied the best of two worlds. First, he was a wonderful, gentle caregiver. He had been coming to my house twice a day for several weeks to take care of my bed-bound grandmother, who was recovering from a broken hip. Second, he was drop-dead gorgeous. All blond Swedish muscle with a shy smile to accompany his sensuous mouth.

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I had sat there at Joey's beachside bar for more than an hour, watching the young man playing in the surf. When I'd first arrived at the bar, both bored and out of sorts, I'd seen him on his surfboard, riding the waves and doing quite well at it. At length, however, I saw him tire of that and come up on the beach and bury the tip of the board into the wet sand, with a strong force that, in itself, would have arrested my attention.

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I hurried out of the building, my cock hard and dripping copious amounts of precum, staining the front of my slacks. I awkwardly attempted to cover myself with my briefcase as my mind raced. "Did that really just happen? Did one of the most powerful industrial giants just use me as his cumslut?" I hailed a taxi and offered a generous tip to get me to my hotel as quickly as possibly. Ten minutes later and $30 poorer, I was safely enclosed in my suite at the Hyatt.

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All comments or criticism welcome. * I had just settled onto the couch to watch some television when the phone rang. "You available?" a familiar voice asked. "Yes." "I'll be there in 20 minutes." "I'll leave the door unlocked, I'm going to jump in the sho--."

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