Your erotic stories

I was a late bloomer when I was a kid, a total nerd. I didn't start masturbating until I was nearly 18 and was afraid to ask a girl out for fear of rejection. I had been on one "blind date" of sorts and it had been a total disaster.

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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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This is a true story, as told to me by a friend. I'm a New York cab driver. Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's a living. Yeah, I've been held up. Twice. But life goes on, right? Boring. Or at least until that fare opened the door and climbed into my cab. Brown skin, black hair. Hispanic, right? In New York, probably Puerto Rican. But his eyes. God! Blue, astonishing blue. Made me think of a raging river. Deep blue. Dark. Dangerous blue. His mama must have fooled around with a Norwegian tourist.

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"I think we can dispense with these," he said, casting off his human visage. I followed suit, and we both took a few moments to stretch our wings, swish our tails and stamp our broad clawed feet, feeling the life pour back into our neglected bodies. We were the only two of our kind on Earth, and it was rare that we got an opportunity to relax into our native forms.

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I have been a very lucky man: my parents could afford to send me through college and school-work came easy for me; fresh out of college I landed a prestigious and lucrative position in a major law office; when my father passed-away I inherited the family business; with little effort I built the business up to the point where a competitor bought me out and I made a huge profit;

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You knew you wanted this. How warm his breath feels, coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. How strong his hands are, one twisted up and fisted in your hair, exposing your throat... how sweet his tongue feels against your skin as he's tasting the sweat glimmering in the moonlight. How blissfully forceful he is, giving you exactly what you need... exactly what you crave. He's all around you.

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It was my first time at a sauna, but this was a weekend of indulgence in Amsterdam, the city of sin and I wanted to make the most of it. I wanted to do all the things that I didn't dare to do back home in England. So here I was, nervously paying my entry fee and collecting my two towels.

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Just when I thought that nothing would happen, on the thirteenth day after my trip to Birmingham, a text arrived at around 8.30 pm saying "Hope to see you at 6.30 pm tomorrow at the same place or will contact as previously notified." This was a veiled threat that to anyone else would have appeared innocuous. A further message arrived shortly after saying "Just in case you are having second thoughts, here is a sample photograph.

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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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It started innocently enough: We were sitting in his living room drinking wine and Danny was telling me about his high school wrestling team and how he won forty-eight straight matches. His eyes wore a glazed-over expression as he talked about his glory days. "...and out of those forty-eight matches, I pinned thirty-one of my opponents in under a minute in the first round!" he declared, triumphantly.

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