Your erotic stories

It all started with a thought. One thought. Three weeks ago. When my girlfriend, who, let's face it, was never very good at blow jobs, was actually giving me one. It started with me looking down at her and thinking, 'you know, I bet someone with a dick would probably know how to totally rock at this'.

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She flipped her phone open, dialed his number, and then promptly ended the call. "Dammit! No, no, no, no, you're going to do this. You want to do this. Besides, you know him, you can trust him....just do it." Two seconds later she's dialed the number again and smacked the phone shut swiftly. The room felt as if it was going to engulf her with the magnitude of heat that flushed her cheeks.

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There's a faded childhood scar on her jaw. It shows in sharper relief in the flickering candlelight. She walks to me, letting her cream chemise spill to the carpet. The beauty mark on the inside of her thigh winks at me as she crosses the room. I had stripped and laid down on our bed earlier, as soon as I saw the lit candles and massage oils on the nightstand.

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Did I have enough nerve? After all, we were in my bedroom - just the two of us. We had reached a line. Do I cross it? It had taken a long time to get here as I stood at the foot of my bed with Brian holding a tube of lubrication in his hand he just found in my bedside table. He acted shocked. The question was he really shocked?

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The events in this story happened a few years ago when I was 26 years old and living in Washington DC where I had moved to take up a new job. It was my first time living by myself. I had always had room-mates since finishing grad school a few years earlier. But now, partly because I felt I was ready to be my own man, and partly because I didn't want to go looking for room-mates in a new city, I decided to get a place for myself, a nice little apartment in a high-rise not too far from downtown.

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Written for Heather. I love you Babe. Misty sat on the hard wooden stands under the hot summer sun. Liberally oiled and sun screened, she looked cute in cut-off denim shorts and red, yellow and black Ferrari T-shirt. A matching red Ferrari baseball cap shaded face. Her eyes were protected by wrap-around Raybans followed the brightly coloured cars on the track before her. The noise was raucous even high up in the stands like she was.

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She thought I had forgotten. It's pretty impossible; it's two weeks after mine exactly. Her temper tantrums as of lately have been cute. It'll make tonight so much more fun. I haven't said anything about her birthday and it's cute that she's stressing about it. Not to toot my own horn or anything but, I'm the best girlfriend ever.

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