Your erotic stories

"You are behaving like a spoilt brat, Gareth."

"Am I really? Perhaps I have good grounds," Gareth retaliated as he continued to pace.

"Getting a new Anaesthetist is hardly the end of the world. You managed before Ed and you manage when on shift with the others."

"Managing and working well are two different things entirely, Shirley."

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Let me first introduce myself. My name is Marcus Sinclair McManus. I am twenty-five years old, single and I live in Los Angeles. I work in advertising for a relatively small, but very successful and profitable agency called Sinclair McManus, which I also happen to own. I became the sole owner of this agency, founded by my parents Andrew McManus and Jennifer Sinclair, some three years ago, at the tender age of twenty-two, when both my parents were killed outright in a truly horrible automobile crash.

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I'm not always in the mood to have sex with other men, but when I get in the mood, it hits me pretty hard. I'm a thirty-one year old guy living in Norristown, Pennsylvania, and as far as all my friends know, I'm a straight guy. I love women, but sometimes I really want the feelings that only another man can give me.

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It started with my first job after leaving school, as an assistant gardener-cum-handyman at a local stately house. I was interviewed by a rather handsome man in his fifties called Clive, and we seemed to hit it off right away, and I figured that must have helped me get the job. It seemed the ideal way to get a foothold into the whole gardening/landscaping industry, and after my first couple of days I knew I'd really landed on my feet. 

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I had been working temporarily in the DC area near the Pentagon for a few weeks. While there is an excellent mass transit system in the city, the apartment I was living in was far enough away from the Metro stations that it would take almost as much time commuting to the nearest station as it took me to go ahead and drive into work.

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Pelle, or as I called him, "Baby face", looked so lovely now. He was eighteen, a year younger than me, but his looks made me think otherwise sometimes. So sweet but such a slut for being fucked by me. Those innocent blue eyes that made me quiver. That head full of sexy sleek dirty blonde hair I loved to run my fingers through. I couldn't keep my eyes off of his slightly thin and 5' 7" body.

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I don't even know where to begin. It's such a hard story to tell, and I'm afraid that it doesn't show me in the best light. 

I guess I should start by telling you about myself. I'm a happily married man, 47 years old, 6-2, 190 pounds. Maybe not the best looking guy, but I keep myself in shape and I work out every day. Grey hair, blue eyes, nice smile. 

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To describe exactly why my stomach coiled and my heart rate increased when I saw him would be like trying to explain why the earth is round, or why Oranges don't have a more original name, or why, no matter how much gel I use, I can never get my hair to look like that model in the advertisement with the skateboard.

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I sure had a wild time at the poker game and it was something I never expected. After we talked about it, I was clear that our friends did not think any less of me and that they had a great time too. Cheryl and I were lying in bed, in our matching panties, the following night, just kind of snuggling and talking about it when she reached down and started caressing my cock through my panties.

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Having worked as a rep in the hair care products industry for a couple of years you might imagine that I've met and seen a number of interesting people. I found salon owners to be, for the most part, pretty bright and some very charismatic. One particular customer of mine was a couple who owned a top rate full service salon in Lansing.

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