Your erotic stories

One of the first things I noticed when I started interning at this company was Matt, our "fitness consultant," a professional bodybuilder that's been hired to keep the office in shape by running exercise classes in the company gym and making various recommendations.

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The sky started clouding over as I found the cafe called 'Chances Are' down on Santa Monica Boulevard and pulled in. In 1974, I was nineteen, and had found a man in a swinger's ad magazine, and was here to meet him.

Inside, it was different than any other restaurant I frequented. The clientele was all men, not a woman in sight. I felt a shiver of guilt and fear as I waded into these unknown waters, looking around for a man in a black suede jacket with a large red book. That would be Gary. 

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The Moguls' General had plowed me almost as deeply as Konan the barbarian had. And before he left he assured me that now he had enjoyed my 'asset's' he knew I would be a great success at the Moguls' court. When the General was gone I lay back happily among my cushions with my legs wide, feeling better fucked than I had ever been before, and thinking about my brilliant future. But I also longed to feel the great barbarian Konans' huge weapon plowing me deeply again.

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Mike was fifty-three and in pretty good shape for a man his age. He was about six feet tall, 198lbs, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was nice looking and had a hairy chest. He had been married for nearly thirty-five years now and the marriage was a good one except for a couple of rough periods here and there. While Mike felt fine his wife was constantly after him to get a physical.

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Neal wasn't the sort of guy people noticed much. He could walk through a room of people talking—even a room full of people he knew—and get to the other side without being greeted or noticed. He could have conversations with strangers and then the stranger wouldn't recognize him if they met again. He was a guy of no standout talents, no distinctive looks other than being smaller of stature than his age. He wasn't ugly; he was just plain and forgettable—and a little scrawny.

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Cliff took me for granted. For some reason he thought I was safe. Once I overheard him tell one of those guys he brought home that he wanted only straight roommates, guys who wouldn't hit on him, because he only wanted to fuck when he was in the mood. Well, he had been in the mood a lot these past several weeks.

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Sharon and I have been married close to seven years now, and for the most part it's been great. The sex isn't as plentiful or varied as it was at first, but I gather that's par for the course. I've never felt the need to have sex with anyone else, unless you count Bruno. I consider myself completely straight, but a while back I bought a dildo (that's Bruno) and I like to use it on myself whenever I get a chance. Even that had purely heterosexual origins.

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I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate.

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As companies cut back on employee benefits, you have to find your perks where you can. My perk was having a desk across from the photocopier. When I wasn't focused on my computer screen, I was watching women's butts as they bent over to load paper in the copier. I never caught a glimpse of panties, but I kept hoping to see stocking tops and garters someday. That was my Holy Grail, and I prayed that short skirts would remain in fashion.

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