Your erotic stories

There's an adult bookstore not too far from where I live, and I've been known to go in and drop a few bucks on different things. More than once, I've been checked out by the guys in there, as it seems most of them are gay guys looking for a quick hookup. I've never done anything with any of them, but I usually end up going home and rubbing one out thinking about what it might be like.

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My husband was out of town. Again. Sometimes I felt like a single Mom, raising my two kids without a husband present. He made great money, but sometimes I felt like he travelled so much that I didn't have a partner. In addition, when he was home he seemed distracted, too busy catching up on his own life to pay much attention to me. Rather than his absence making our sex life or our hearts grow fonder, it seemed to be doing the opposite.

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It was one of those business dinners, I thought. My husband has a small but very successful company and deals with a lot of corporate clients so we are frequently entertaining clients at restaurants. This was to be another of those. “What should I wear?”. “Whatever you like” Then he said “What about the blue leather suit?”

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From the first moment I met Annie I was in lust with her. Petite with big blue eyes and curly red hair, she was a lithe little fox that dazzled most men. She was of course hopelessly out of my reach, being the girlfriend of Eddy, one of my best mates. Eddy and I played basketball together at uni and I'd been enduring his tales about his new girl for weeks.

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During the spring semester, I played volleyball in a local co-ed recreational league. I was invited to join by Renee, a former student and player I coached, a sweet girl and an awesome outside hitter who's since become one of my closer friends. Rounding out the team was her boyfriend, Jesse, Rachel, a teammate of Renee's from the college they now attend, and two of Jesse's buds, John and Daniel. With each of the women on our team having played competitively in the past, we did very well throughout the season.

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They first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where they were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While they remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, Yvette made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. They shared a knowing smile, both well aware of their common appreciation for such goodies.

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I admit it. I always wondered. Even before my first experience I thought about it more than once. Even though I thought about it I still tried to deny my desires, especially publicly. All guys have thought about it at one point or another. Many guys desire it but won't admit it. Only a few are strong enough to admit it and pursue it.

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Karl stared at the phone in his hand after flipping it closed. "Well this might be an interesting trip home after all," was the statement he made to the air in his empty living room. He had just finished up a three hour long, catch-up conversation with someone from his past. Someone he had shared more than just a dorm room and later a frat house double with at college. Much more. Much, much more.

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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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The first time I saw Ellen Rothko was when I walked into Boyle's Antiques on Clark Street, looking for old records. She was showing a woman some antique earrings, their heads bent over the display case, and when she heard me come in she looked up and caught my eye, shocked me with her beauty, and then lowered her face again, leaving me standing there gaping like an idiot.

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