Your erotic stories

Just a few weeks ago, my next door neighbor held a party to celebrate the college graduation of their son, Alex. Alex and his family had been my neighbor for many years and so my wife and I were invited. The party began at 7pm and my wife and I walked over around 8pm. The hosts had a bar set up on their back patio and a professional bartender was mixing and serving guest.

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For years I had kept a very private secret. I had run the gauntlet emotionally because of it too. Sometimes forcing myself to abstain, thinking it wrong, bizarre, even disgusting as many would see it. But eventually, I'd give in to the urge, usually resulting in a frenzy of activity in order to satisfy what I believed then to be an absurd form of sexual pleasure and gratification.

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My lover has an Afrikaans accent. His breath whispers against my neck as he speaks gruffly in my ear, pinning me to the living room wall. I push my behind into his groin as he cups my tits, groaning he is "so glad he met me." It's a rainy summer's night, all sticky and we're slick with sweat. We're both in singlets, he's in jeans and I can feel his thick length as he nestles it between my shorts clad cheeks.

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My roommate, Rob, was out of town that weekend, but that didn't stop me from hanging out with Rob. There was another Rob that we hung out with pretty frequently and I ended up going out with him and Hugh that Saturday night. After a few hours at the bars, drinking a number of beers but failing miserably with the women, Hugh headed home and Rob and I headed to his house to crash.

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"What the fuck are you doing?" David flinched, looked around furtively, and jerked his hand from his face as I entered his living room. He tried to hide the evidence in between the couch cushions, but I knew exactly what he had been doing. While I was taking a shower, he decided to raid my suitcase looking for used panties to sniff. He was still dressed, but his jeans were pulled down past his hips. The semi-hard cock visible through his boxers did nothing to convince me of his innocence.

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Michelle was a twenty one year old college student. She knew she was attracted to girls ever since she was a teenager. When she discovered masturbation, she would often think of girls as often as guys. She was fine with this but kept it to herself. She had a normal teen age life, culminating in graduating high school and going to college. She had a normal progression of boyfriends, because it was the socially acceptable thing to do. She lived off campus, with her friend Teri, they were both English majors.

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I'm a finish carpenter. No, I'm no guy who wants to "Express his creativity in Wood" or anything like that. Just a guy who didn't quite fit in anywhere else. Not college material and, honestly, fell into my trade by accident. But it's a good living and if I had no talent for it I would have stumbled out of the business a long time ago like a few guys I've met along the way. I like meeting people and doing a nice job in their home and...and getting paid!

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This is a story about a time that I had been staying with good friends of mine, Nicole and Tom. Nicole was very sweet and sexy and I had always had a thing for her, and she knew it and teased me about it frequently. I’m sure Tom knew as well, but it never got in the way of our friendship, I guess he felt a bit flattered by it.

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I know I'm like a lot of guys, I have a real fetish for women's panties. I have always enjoyed trying to get a peak at the color and texture of women's panties when they bend over, or are sitting in a chair and their shirt rises up enough to reveal a peak just above their pants. My wife (Diane) says that it is tacky when their panties are visible, but I rather enjoy getting a peak at what they are wearing underneath.

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It's the feel, I think, more than the appearance. Yes I'm interested in how they look, but I am more interested in the touch. Sure, the cut, the style, how much is covered and how much is revealed are important, but nowhere near as much as the sensations I receive. I get so aroused by simply holding the garment in my hands that sometimes it's nearly impossible for me to put it down.

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