Your erotic stories

When I hung up the phone, I admit I might have slammed down the receiver in frustration. It was Monday and I had been looking forward to an evening spent in my recliner with a couple beers and some Monday Night Football. Instead, I had just been informed that I had been enlisted by my wife to help entertain another in a seemingly endless stream of consultants brought in to figure out how to make my wife's place of employment hum.

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The wind was already howling. The rain pounded so hard and constant on the windows that it sounded like radio static when Connie decided to finally take the neighbors up on their offer. Hunter and Pilar knew Connie's ex had the kids for the weekend and thought she might want to be with someone to ride out the storm. Connie had planned to curl up with her new Blu-Ray of Gone with the Wind, or if the power went out, a good book.

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Alison got out of her car and took a breath. She was tingling with excitement. Tonight was Beltane and she was going to be initiated into the "adults only" branch of her coven. Alison had been raised in a pagan Goddess worshiping tradition by her mother. She and her sister had attended rituals since they were children. However, there was a big difference between dancing around a maypole and what was going to happen tonight.

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My wife Kate walked into the house first, naked. Lori, our good friend and down the street neighbor, followed closely behind. She was also naked and chuckled quietly as we climbed the stairs from the back deck to the house. I followed those two gorgeous derrieres into the cool kitchen. This had already been quite the afternoon. We had all been laying out in the back yard, getting some early spring sun on ourselves. We were all a bit pink. Some were stickier than others.

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I am one lucky son of a bitch. There. I said it. I have a life any other guy would kill to have. And I have no idea why, except when genes play a role. It certainly isn't because I'm a genius, because I'm not. I'm not the biggest, the fastest, the strongest, or the best athlete. I'm sure as hell not rich. Just lucky. Now, I did mention genes helped out, and I wasn't lying. I mean, I'm pretty average-looking: brown hair, green eyes, thin, six feet tall even, straight teeth.

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So after the back seat experience with Tara, Rob and Trevor, (See my story "Tight Places") it had been pretty routine. It was back to the grind with school and Trevor and I had hung out a few more times and slept together, but nothing noteworthy. Tara had gotten a job on campus and I had not been seeing too much of her with our busy class schedule. So when an evening became available when both of us had no plans we jumped at the chance to do something. Being boorish, we had decided to go over to Rob's and hang out.

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I sat at the casino bar all morning and into the afternoon. Even though I looked old enough to drink, I was sure the only reason I wasn't asked to leave was because I ordered only soda, and I probably looked like I'd been through enough grief. I didn't talk to anyone, and they quickly understood it did no good to try. My eyes were fixed on the floor behind the bar, but I saw nothing. I didn't even notice the bartender shift changes until I snapped out of it around 4pm. I had been sitting in the same spot all day.

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There's something about reading other people's stories, I keep thinking is that real, did they really do that? It's so much hotter to read something that really happened. So I thought why not tell one of my own true stories. It happened last Christmas, after a friend's wedding. It was late and the other guests were mostly gone. We'd stayed up drinking with some Army officers, in no hurry to get back to our room in the hotel.

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It was one of the hottest summers on record and for the small town in central Illinois, that meant July temperatures in the mid to upper nineties was the norm. There were only two escapes from the heat; the air conditioned indoors or a pool and cool drinks. One evening, after a local band had provided some musical entertainment in the parking lot of a local bar and hotel, a group of friends were discussing what to do next. None of them at 10:30, was ready to call it a night.

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Sweat dripped off Matthew's forehead and stung his pale blue eyes. Not the Halloween weather Matthew remembered growing up with in Delaware. Even after four years he had difficulty adjusting to his new home in San Diego. Adults ferried their costumed children through the hot afternoon, trick or treating amidst shops that enticed with free treats for the little kids and costly treats for the bigger ones. Signs posted in bars announced Halloween parties with prizes for the best costume. Tattoo parlors advertised Halloween discounts.

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