Your erotic stories

I have wrote this as non true story although there are some of my own personal experiences mixed into it. * I was 19 and living with my parents and was going through this phase of feeling I wanted to try sex with a guy, it had all started when a friend had lent me a video with some porn stuff on it and right at the end was about 15 minutes of gay porn with these two guys sucking and fucking each other and I could not believe how horny it made me as I watched it .

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It was a hot summer day when Eric suggested they go out for a good meal and maybe dancing. Paula loved to dance, she could shake her ass better than most and had a ass most like to watch being shaken. With her long blonde hair and large breast she could still turn heads. She looked through her closet and found the little black sun dress she knew would show off her body and would make her man horny as hell.

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"Jason. Remind me again why I'm doing this?" I asked my older brother as I got out of his car. "Jordan, quit bitching. I really like Patty and she needs someone to look after her brother." "So, I'm supposed to somehow entertain him while you go get laid?" "Exactly. Besides, she says he's a fag, so you maybe you can get laid, too," he chuckled. "Remind me again why I'm not supposed to hate you."

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It all started a few weeks ago while I sat in a bar after a long day of searching through the want ads. "How's it going?" said the clean headed muscle man who sat down next to me. "Not the best," I said, looking up from the paper. "I've been slogging around town all morning, looking for a job."

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»Oh oh oh, you HAVE to tell me all about it!« Nina's eyes got a twinkle as she rolled over in her bed on her stomach and looked at me. »Tell you what?« I acted stupid even though I knew exactly what it was she wanted to hear. »You know,« she gave me a mysterious smile.

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My wife was fairly discerning when it came to other men she wanted to have sex with. But I knew there was one guy she was crazy about. He was a dancer at an all male revue. She had once admitted to me that she would have had sex with him at her bachelorette party, just a couple of weeks before our wedding, if she had had a chance and her friends wouldn't have judged her. Every time she described her feelings about him and his body while we were in bed, we had earth moving sex.

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Peter Grandon sat moodily in his dorm room staring at his literature textbook and studying for finals. He had read the same passage four times and he still couldn't tell what the paragraph meant. His mind was elsewhere.

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He was rude to me when I first saw him, which is one of the reasons I remembered him. The other was that he was drop-dead gorgeous. This was in the souk (Arab market) in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, one dull Saturday morning, and I was shopping for a Quran. Not some paperback English translation, but something really nice, an ornate Arabic copy I could display in my office at home.

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John Fisher was sitting at one of the many outdoor bars that covered the beach area of Phuket, Thailand watching the hundreds of sailors walking around. He had just gotten off the ship with a four day pass of not having to be back at the ship until the morning it got underway. The sun had just gone down with an evening tropical breeze blowing off of the ocean cooling off the heat of the day.

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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.

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