Your erotic stories

It was a Wednesday night, which was two for one rental night at the local adult video store. I picked out a couple of European titles from my favorite director. His films usually featured exotic locales, stunning eastern European babes, and lots of anal. I brought the empty cases up to the till, and the clerk moved over to the drawer where the actual DVDs were stored and retrieved them. I completed the transaction in the usual fashion; minimal words, averted gaze, the slightest tinge of embarrassment for being in the shop in the first place. 

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We had chatted several times online, exchanging pleasantries and stats. We cybered a little, "feeling" each other out in regards to likes and fantasies. We didn't bother exchanging pics, who knew if what you saw was really who you were trying to see. So now, here I was driving out to meet this guy, sight unseen, seeking to live out a mutual fantasy of sex outdoors. At least, I thought to myself, he doesn't know me any better than I know him. But the taboo thought of meeting this stranger out under the stars and fucking the night away had me hard as a rock and hungry for cum.

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I have a huge problem. I'm 22, 6'1, 175 lbs., with light brown hair and grey eyes. I'm a college student at a prestigious university, and I'm studying psychology. I'm an honor student, and I'm an athlete. I work out, play baseball, lacrosse, and basketball, and I'm in very good shape. My parents are rich, so I've never really had to worry about money.

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The name's Piper. Peter Piper. But I don't pick pecks of pickled peppers. I solve cases. I'm a private dick. That's a detective for those of you who don't know the lingo. A private eye. It was a miserable Friday afternoon. Cold, damp, foggy. The weather was foul. And so was my mood. My bank account was dwindling at an alarming pace. I hadn't had a case in weeks. I was sitting behind my battered desk in my shabby office on the second floor of the Burke building, downtown. Way downtown. I was sitting there and I was worrying. If something didn't happen soon, I was in deep shit. I had bills to pay.

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Kelly and I were having a night out on the town, just good friends hanging out for each other's company, and for fun. I think it was her who made the suggestion initially, but I was also game, that we should go to a strip club. Now normally I wouldn't go to such a place with a woman, but she told me that she had been before and that this particular place had both male and female strippers, performing seperately.

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Radon and Taylor ran, head down, through the thick filthy sleet. The icy rain had started out as clean white snow, but then it was stained by factory smoke and melted by the roads and buildings it passed. By the time snow got to the Bottom Tier, it was filthy mush that was more dangerous then snow.

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INTRODUCTION

My name is Brian and at 27 years of age I consider myself to be bi-sexual. I love the ladies but I am not ready to make a long term commitment to one woman. I like to play the field and I love the art of seduction. Usually I am successful finding women to bed and I have found many a woman with the same objective when I am out clubbing. There are times however that I am not in the mood for the chase and I will seek out other methods of sex. 

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Konan rose at dawn from the bed he had made beneath the trees and stars at the side of the road. He stretched and ran his hands through his hair and over his body and adjusted his loincloth. He had already checked that his possessions were all there. His sword in its hard leather, iron-banded sheath, along with his knife and the small leather bag of valuables had all been wrapped in his robe, which he had rolled up and used as a pillow.

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Sunday with David. My name is Jason. I met David surfing the internet and using the chat rooms. It was probably the most significant time of my life when, at last I raised the courage to meet him. At first exchanging on the internet was like a bit of fun. Looking back it is simply unbelievable what guys do on there with the aid of skype.

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I breathed on my new chromed nametag and polished it on my sleeve. I had been promoted: Sergeant Lincoln Lovel. I attached it to my blue uniform shirt, checked myself out one more time in the mirror, and walked outside to the police car in my driveway. Life is good. My utility belt gleamed, newly polished; my buttons all glittered; even my service pistol shone like it was gold-plated. And I had sergeant's stripes on my sleeves!

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