Your erotic stories

Last fall, when I was starting my graduate studies at NYU film school, I found myself sexually frustrated and unhappy with the guys I was meeting. The sex was OK, but nothing really special. I think that's kind of understandable because, after all, we were mostly all in our early 20s and not very experienced. Plus, if I was to be really honest, the guys I met (and I include myself here) were kind of immature and unworldly. We barely knew who we were, let alone capable of thoughtful, meaningful and satisfying sexual relationships.

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Brad lay staring into the dark, looking at an invisible ceiling while listening to a strange man's slow rhythmical breathing and wishing he were back home in his own bed with his gorgeous girlfriend. Instead of that he was sharing an anonymous hotel room with a total stranger, one who just happened to work for the same company as he did.

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The follwing story is a work of fiction, based on facts from my life. The names of all parties have been changed to protect their "innocence". "Hey Jim, you need anything from Supply while I'm down there?" "Naw, I'm good Marv, thanks anyway." I headed down the hall to the elevators so I could get to Supply. It was Thursday, and I was winding up some details so my weekend wouldn't be interrupted by any calls from the office.

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It wasn't until after my third divorce that I decided to try and fulfill a fantasy I have had for many years, to be the slave of a beautiful dominant woman. I joined numerous dating websites and scoured the internet for possible ways to find my dominant soul mate.

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His name was Roland and he was from Jamaica. I'm guessing he was about 30. He had deep ochre skin, eyes that were almost black, closely-cropped hair, and was tall, lean and very graceful. At one point in his life he'd been a dancer, but was now a set designer for one of the larger theater companies in Amsterdam. He was just a little bit effeminate, and overtly gay.

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The first thing I noticed when I woke up is that I was unable to move anything but my arms. I was lying naked, on my back, strapped down onto a padded leather surface. I couldn't really see what was holding me in place as my head was tilted back quite far by a wide leather strap wrapping around my forehead.

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Hi guys, this is my first attempt at m/m romance and this was meant to be a stand alone story. If you like it, I'll expand...but only if you do, haha. No sex in this story (or chapter) by the way. Enjoy :) *** 'Do you know how obvious it is that you're in love with him?' I jumped, spilling my drink as my best friend snuck up and whispered that damning question in my ear.

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I've always had an affinity for older men, but these days it seems I'm either the older man or one of the older men involved when there's sex play. But recently I was fortunate to meet a man who at seventy-one made for the widest margin in age I'd been with in quite a while. John and I met at a rehearsal for a school function in which my granddaughter and his great-grandson were involved.

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Criticism much appreciated, this is a rewrite of Brian's Fuck and have changed the title as you suggested. * I felt Brian's fuck like I knew I would. He was a big guy and I just knew when we did foreplay it would hurt first time, but the fact is I wanted it and I wanted to share the experience with Brian who I trusted implicitly.

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Acacia had strode into the Annenberg Center about 15 minutes before and taken possession of one of the tables. The other three students at the table were crowded down to one end while Acacia used the rest to arrange her books, notebooks, backpack, purse, and blazer in just the right way. She didn't ask for the space, she just took it and none of the underclassmen dared to push back on her occupation.

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