Your erotic stories

Day 1. My wife Pam is very pretty and has a nice figure. She is also quite timid and will avoid confrontation at almost any cost. I worried that would eventually get her into trouble, and while I was partly right about that, it turned out to be something totally unexpected that was the dominant factor. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

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Cathy was shivering as she hurried to her Mustang in the school parking lot. She ignored all the whistles and comments from the students as the cold wind swirled around and blew her skirt up revealing her slim legs and pink panties. After starting the car she put on the heater but it blew nothing but cold air. She wished that she lived in a warmer climate than New Jersey.

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It was a steamy night in the ATL and there was a power outage. No light, no AC, all the entire city could do was sit and sweat and sit and sweat some more. Luckily, I live on the top floor of my condo so I could go outside naked as the day I was born and enjoy a little breeze without the fear of anyone peeking at me.

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I always have trouble sleeping in a hotel, especially the first night, so it is no surprise I am wide awake at midnight. I pour another glass of wine and open my laptop. I start searching for some gay porn so I can get off. Alcohol and orgasm are my go-to cure for insomnia. The hard part, aside from my cock, is finding a video that shows "real" guys. Shaved, oiled twinks don't really do it for me. Well. A shaved, oiled twink in the flesh might but I've never met one in real life.

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Shelly walked briskly down Bourbon St while I followed close behind. Her fat round ass, encased in a tight, short skirt, swayed from side to side as she deftly navigated through the crowd in her 4" heals. A mass of beads, ranging from small to big, was draped around her neck but they did little to hide her huge, God given breasts.

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God, he was big; one of the biggest. Shit, he could fuck. Panting, panting, I grabbed the metal legs of the cot on either side in a death grip, my cheek pressed into the rough woolen blanket, my eyes bugging out and my mouth slack and open in a silent scream, as he drove it harder, deeper inside me. Cruel. Rough. Just what I wanted. Just what I needed.

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This is a true story. It is the story of a young man who was sheltered, unsophisticated about the world and not sure of himself. He came to Memphis from the countryside of Arkansas with no real experiences. It is about me. Growing up, I knew no real want. My parents were gainfully employed and made good money. I was the middle of five kids and did not get much attention. So, I was always trying to figure out my true identity. I had gone to a small local college and remained fairly sheltered. No one talked about anything out of the ordinary. No taboo.

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Authors note: All characters in this story are 18 years old or older. Enjoy! D * * * * * Michael sat chewing his straw as he wondered about the mixture of longing and disgust he felt as he watched the group of girls on the other side of the canteen. It was a bright day and the shine from their finely cared-for hair and skin gave them a cinematic glow that made them all the more captivating. His twin sister, Brittany, was with seated amongst them, seemingly just another beautiful face in the crowd of beautiful girls.

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Sunday Morning in early March. I joined the regulars for coffee after a disappointing Saturday night; I hate to be part of a closing crowd, and so I'd left the Paradise Bar with fifteen minutes to go before the bitter end. It's my age, I suppose. As fine as I know myself to be at thirty-five, I just don't feel like competing at singles bars any more. So there I was, listening to the morning-after banter about the night before: Who did, who didn't, who got lucky, who got away.

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Jerome stood just inside the doorway at the shadowed end of the room. He should have just turned and gone down the stairs and out to the carriage to tell Thomas that Master John wasn't ready to go yet. That's all Thomas, Master John's carriage driver, had told him to do. But the shock of what he'd found when he'd entered the house on Decatur Street and been waved to the second door down the hall on the second floor held him plastered to his shadowy vigil spot long enough to engage his curiosity.

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