Your erotic stories

'Knock knock', Ron's knuckles tapped against the glass. There was no movement. 'Knock Knock', he tried again, looking at the handle on the door. Stepping back, he peered up at the top windows. The only sound of life was the sound of a police siren a couple of streets over. Spattering rain annoyed his eyes. He tapped on the glass panel of the front door again, and ran his nails over the flaking paint on the wall of the porch, picking at chunks.

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When my fiancé and I graduated from college, times were tough. There wasn't a single employer that was hiring. For a while I waited tables as we struggled to pay basic bills. After putting in hundreds of applications, I finally received an invitation for an interview from a company called QJ Productions.

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I don't consider myself to be gay. I have never kissed a guy, and have no desire to. I don't want to stick my dick up another man's ass, nor would I like one stuck up mine. I have never met a guy whom I wanted to have sex with. Despite all that, I had what can only be described as a steamy sexual encounter with my best friend from college, Lance.

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"What's the matter with you guys? You got lead in your ass? We're never going to win a goddamn thing if you don't pick up your game! Tom was screaming at the football team as they practiced for the upcoming game. His red hair glinted in the bright sunlight so that his head seemed on fire, matching his fiery temper. Most of the team looked sheepishly at me, knowing this was not their day.

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I guess I should have realized that something like this would happen eventually. I was always made fun of in school for having a "girly" build. At only five foot 4 inches I'm not particularly tall. I have slim shoulders, thin arms and legs and my hips are probably more shapely than most guy's. I didn't exactly help things by keeping my blonde hair shoulder length. I told everyone it was because I liked metal music. Most of all though, I apparently have a nice ass.

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From my very first lecture at university, I instantly knew I wanted Mark. Then again, nearly everybody did. He was stereotypically good looking: 6ft 2, dark and toned. He was also my contract law lecturer. Forbidden fruit. I could never pay attention in his classes, I'd be focusing on anything but him to keep my cock from being rock hard and causing embarrassment.

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Nothing makes you feel quite like a loser then spending your Saturday night trying to impress women, and ending the night at the bar downing drinks with your gay friend. That was my life for nearly a year. I would get dressed up and head to the bar at about 8:00. I tried to talk to the women who came in. I thought I was pleasant.

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I've always been a pretty big horn dog when it comes to women. Since high school, I've tried every trick in the book to meet, bed, and enjoy the ladies. I got married in my mid twenties, screwed around mercilessly on my wife, and divorced in my early thirties, after my wife caught me fucking my secretary, bent over my desk at work. Problem was it was the third time my wife caught me cheating, and strike three was the last straw.

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The identity of the man who purchased the mansion on the hill that rose above any landmarks for a mile around was a mystery to every resident of Langley Street, the street that led motorists and pedestrians alike to the private estate and the foot of its sweeping front drive. As much as rumor could provide, the new owner was a young man in his early twenties, obviously a man who had recently come into good fortune, either by his own merit or by luck.

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Such a simple and well known phrase. But how can anyone derive pleasure by giving something? - it defies all logic. The excitement of receiving something new, indulging in the joy of a gift, a compliment or whatever it may be that has been received. That's surely got to be where the real pleasure lies. Not by sitting back and watching someone else enjoy that experience, thinking all the while that it's really you that wanted to receive something. It just makes no sense.

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