Your erotic stories

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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All the time I was standing out on the balcony of Colleen Addison's house fourteen miles south of Athens, in Voula, overlooking Greece's Miroon Sea, and engaging in chit chat with her and the man who was introduced to me merely as Sam from the Economic Section, I kept thinking that I knew him from someplace but couldn't place him.

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There I was stretched out naked on my bed, fisting the bone again. My boyfriend Andy had taken a job and moved to Rome so we decided that rather than keep something going we should just break up. We'd been together for a while and I wasn't in the mood yet to start seeing other men. But I'd been horny as hell. So, for now, I was again testing the proposition that at times a man's fist could be his best friend.

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It was a warm sunny Sunday afternoon, I was sat at home on my own, bored, nothing on TV. I decided now would be a good time to cruise around the local park to see if I could find myself a horny stud. I got into my car and took the short 10 minute journey to the parking lot at the park.

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I was getting ready for a trip to Washington on business, for work when Bill, a guy I didn't like at all, said at coffee, "If you are in D.C. you have got to go to the Iron Rod." "The what?" I asked, barely listening since all the guy did was bullshit. "The Iron Rod is the best pick-up bar in Washington. You are literally guaranteed to get fucked," he explained.

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The wall above the drapes was faintly lit by a gray light. I figured it was close to dawn. The room was dark and quiet. Getting up. I found my way to the bathroom. The short hall was lighted by a strip of muted light leaking under the hotel room door. I closed the bathroom door and plunged into total darkness.. Fumblingly, I found the light switch, flipped it, and instantly blinded myself.

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