Your erotic stories

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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My friend Gail came home from work one day, entering the backyard through the gate as she usually did when she heard people in the pool. She expected to see her daughter. Dena, and some friends lounging or swimming. That is basically what she saw, but there was also something she never expected. Paul was standing between two lounge chairs where Dena and her friend Lana sat laughing and staring. Gail immediately saw what they were staring at.

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Brad was an only child. He was six years old when his mom, Karoline, died in an accident. He had fond memories of his mom, especially of the one summer he spent in Northern California at her family's beach-front home. Often, he looked at a photo taken on a beach that showed him being hugged by his mother and a woman with long neck and legs. The woman called him, Berde, a Danish name. After his father remarried, he did not have a good relationship with his step mother, Brigitte. He saw her as an immature and selfish woman.

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When I was younger my dad got me a summer job working on Saturdays for Mrs Jones. She was a woman who had a property out by the river and my job was to help her do landscaping, cut back trees, lay pavings etc. The property was a bit run down and it was hard work. Mrs Jones was a bit of a hippie. She lived alone and I guess she must have been divorced because she never wore a wedding ring, even though everyone called her Mrs Jones.

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"Paul, would you like to go and house-sit for Aunty Jean on Friday evening?" his mother asked. Engaged in trying to write a tutorial paper on the computer for next morning – a paper he should have been prepared two days before – Paul asked suspiciously, "Why?" "Oh well, the girl she usually has can't make it, and Jean's booked a seat for the opera, and as she'll probably be home late she says you can stay overnight."

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Billy was shit out of luck. His problem was that he was just an average Joe - but he was really, REALLY average! He was twenty-five years old, working as a delivery man, and not a bad person. But he just couldn't get laid. It wasn't that he was ugly or fat or anything else like that. He had ordinary looks with an ordinary body (bordering on the chubby side, though).

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