Your erotic stories

Just a little background on me, this may help you to understand my stories better. Then again it may not. I am a white male who grew up in the suburbs, in a nice quiet neighborhood. I went to a private school my whole life, and I guess you could say lived a somewhat sheltered life. My upbringing was a catholic one, which meant everything was a sin or wrong to do.

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There was nobody special I wanted to see at my ten-year reunion, but I went anyway, and was pleasantly surprised. It was a fun evening, and I collected a few phone numbers of people I hoped to reconnect with later. As the evening wound down, I ended up at a table with an old friend, drinking beers and talking. Keith and I had played in a couple of bands together in middle school and high school.

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I watch him from across the room as he orders more drinks. His name is Matt, and I think I love him. Unfortunately, Matt's in a very serious relationship. They have been living together for years, while I've only known them for a few months.

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This is a true story of my first visit to an adult book stores movie theater and of my first blow job. I have been in adult book stores many times before, but never ventured behind the curtains. Up to this point I never had a reason or desire to go behind the curtain. That all changed after moving to North Carolina. 

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I'd never seen a real one. Certainly not up close. I'd thought about it but not in 15 years. My sophomore year in college I got stuck with a new roommate when my friend Ed dropped out of school unexpectedly over the summer. Terry was an okay guy. He was nice, well manners and extremely neat but we literally had nothing in common.

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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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The last thing I expected to see when I got home was my girlfriend naked on our bed, her legs spread wide, her own tits in her hands and her fingers pinching her nipples. The most surprising part of it, though, was that face down in her crotch was a guy that wasn't me. He was eating her madly, his hands under her ass, holding her to him.

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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 shame, the paranoia, the guilt, I'd experienced it all in high school. I'd watch the other guys in the shower out of the corner of my eye, terrified I'd get an erection and be betrayed. After that you'd think I'd grow up and come out of the closet, but I pretended to myself as much as anyone else that I wasn't gay. I dated, I had sex, I got my first apartment, and still I looked at other guys out of the corner of my eye.

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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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