Your erotic stories

Susan Jackson, Anne's friend was a bored eighteen-year-old horny senior. She was tired of the pawing hands of her male classmates who all wanted her to suck their cocks and fuck but had no idea about how to please a girl. They thought a lick at her crotch was all a girl wanted before being fucked for three minutes. What Susan wanted was an adventure: a loving experience that she could treasure, not some quick fuck in the back seat of some sweaty boy's car.

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Five o'clock was here and none too soon. This particular Tuesday had been a madhouse at work. Working at my computer terminal, answering the phone and talking to colleagues, often all at the same time, had taken its toll. My back and shoulders ached, and, to make matters worse, I'd overdone it at the gym during lunch hour on Monday. In a word, I was sore. The only good thing was that now it was time for my monthly massage therapy appointment. My spirits rose as I drove toward the small apartment that served as Randy's office.

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It had been a great massage until I turned over and realized he was naked and had a huge cock hanging over his big sack. I had thought he paid a lot of attention to my glutes and while it had excited me when his fingers brushed my ass hole a couple of times, I figured it was just part of the process.

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A client of my wife's had given her gift certificates to a massage parlor as present during the holiday season. Neither of us had ever been to get a massage but we figured with the stress of work and everything else it would be relaxing. We called and scheduled appointments for the upcoming weekend around 3 pm when we would both be off of work. I had always been curious when it came to massages; I read many stories people had written about receiving happy endings during a massage.

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Paul had a little trouble finding Kaylee's apartment building and he was almost twenty minutes late by the time he finally reached her door. It was bad enough being flustered by having taken a wrong turn while following the directions he had been given but, as he pressed the doorbell, he discovered he was distinctly nervous indeed. Kaylee's website specified several massage specialties but, although the text was suitably noncommittal and vague, it was clear that they were all of the more erotic variety.

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It's a bit of a librarian look, the way I wear my hair at work. All coiled up on my head, and stuck through with several of those Japanese-looking hair spikes. Not a strand is out of place, and the hair is wound and wrapped tightly into a bun roughly the size of one of those Kaiser rolls the bun it makes is easily the size of one of those Kaiser rolls.

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Karen was setting in her car in the parking lot next door to he massage parlor. Her best friend had told her about it a month ago, right after she had discovered it. Her friend Sandy was thirty-five and newly divorced like herself. "You have to try this place. That's all I'm saying." And try as she might, that was all Sandy would tell her but she did ask if Karen had made an appointment every time they were together or talked on the phone, which was nearly every day.

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Crap! My back was killing me so I called up my masseuse. I've been seeing the same massage therapist for a couple of years now. Mindy is great and works around my busy schedule. She went into business after she lost her job in banking and was able to convert one of her spare rooms into her massage spa. Thankfully she's been making enough money to keep her home out of foreclosure.

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I had just turned 21 years old and every gay male who reaches that age does what every male gay or straight will do and that is to legally drink and go out and hit the bars and clubs. That day finally came in the summer of many years ago and I hit my first gay club with some friends. We were partying it up seeing the male strip show and then having shots, drinks, and just having some fun.

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I left work and walked across the car park to the small massage therapist's room that was attached to the end of our building. After a stressful day at work, with customers and bosses yelling at me and demanding attention I felt drained, tired and tense. I popped my head around the door and saw Gail sitting at reception, a book of pencilled figures in her hands, glasses perched on her nose. She was in her early 40's, not unattractive for her age and slim, standing at about chin height. She had shoulder length blond her and a friendly and open face.

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