Your erotic stories

Dinner was unusually quiet as I could tell my mother had something on her mind. After the table was cleared she told me she had heard something that really disturbed her. "Jimmy, I spoke with a woman today who lives in the complex and she told me.......oh god I almost can't say it. She told me you......have been seeing her husband and........" I hung my head as I knew what was coming.

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Something changed in my life when I looked up and saw him. A beautiful young man in vest and jeans, sun shining and lighting his body as it hip-jerked with laughter. Tanned shiny muscles, soft but strong. Tight flat stomach, He knew he looked good. He pushed his body forward, he displayed his muscles, he turned easy and relaxed. His jeans were deliciously tight, bewitching. But I could see something else.

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Today's technology can make one a little paranoid. I'm well known in my rather conservative community and the last thing I would need would be for people to find out about my fantasies. Like many people, I have a phone, a tablet, a laptop, etc. and I connect to my work network from home frequently. Lately, I'd become somewhat obsessed about my internet trail and fearing my browsing history being discovered inadvertently through some virus, cookies or some other thing of which I was unaware.

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I sipped my beer as I sat at a table in the bar, casually looking out over Loch Lomond. I had some documents in front of me, on the table, but I was rapidly getting bored. I knew what I was going to talk about when I met my clients in the morning. I had my power point presentation ready and I was confident I could deliver it. I put a paper down and looked out the window again.

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It was a Friday night, early and nice out; just nice enough for a trip down South Street by' myself. I loved coming down here in general but it was almost' always so much better when I was alone. Sometimes, I would walk around for a bit, and then take a trip down to the river and sit there for a while.

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Frigid rain falls steadily from a leaden sky as the train pulls into Union Station in Portland. Even the dreary weather cannot keep Tigger from bouncing up and down on the edge of his seat. It's a habit he's had all his life. As a child his mother teased him that he was bouncier than a rubber ball. His liveliness had earned him his nickname.

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I don't claim to speak for all cock suckers but what I'm about to reveal isn't going to come as a surprise to those who have given this subject any thought at all. Married cock suckers, in general have a guilt complex! That's right. If you think about it why would a normal, healthy, married man actively seek out men to "service"? Something is rotten in Denmark.

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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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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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As the family wagon pulled into a small truck stop in the middle of nowhere, Jack's father turned to him and his mother. "Who else is hungry? " They had been driving across state to visit family and were now heading back home again. The problem is that it's a long drive and Jacks iPod ran out of battery a long time ago.

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