Your erotic stories

Andrea and I had had a thing, four or five years ago, way back when we still worked together. It had only lasted about a week, but it had been a quite memorable week (at least for me it sure was!), and we had managed to stay good friends after. We'd gone on to pursue different careers, and Andrea had become a dedicated, full-time lesbian, and occasionally we'd even dated the same girls (though never at the same time).

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It was the wrong choice of swimwear, and I was headed back to the guest room to rectify that, when the cause of it all stopped me in the hallway. The new owner of our company had invited me to his country place for a weekend to discuss some details of a project we were working on, and it turned out there was a pool party included. But, not knowing that, I hadn't brought my suit. I had assumed this would be all business. So there I was, having to pick out a loaner suit from Thad, my boss, and I'd picked the wrong one.

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Back in college, I met this one girl and we started to get to know each other fairly well in classes and in passing. She had a live-in boyfriend named Bruce, a guy in the drama club. After we'd known each other a couple months, she finally asked to stop by their place on Friday night and we'd have some beers.

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There's something a little Zen to the game of sex. The sound of one hand clapping? How about the fact that you never meet a hot woman when you're trying? I don't believe in pheromones, generally, but it's obvious women can smell desperation on a man. From a long way off.

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"I can't wait to have my cock in her ass," I whisper to you in the cab, as it picks its way through traffic. You look at me, your eyes wild with lust, "I can't wait to watch you fuck her." We kiss. We can't help but kiss. Our mouths interlocked, our hands traveling all over each other. The cab driver trying to catch as much of it as he can in his rearview mirror. The day seemed like it would never end. We had meetings to go to, papers to hear.

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I'd like to be gay. I really would. Why? Because guys are hornier than gals. It's the way things are. A guy is ready to fuck at the mention of the word. A gal has to be sold on the idea. It isn't fair, of course, but that's the way things are. Unfortunately I like girls. We don't really have a choice. Most guys think girls are just like them. Girls are not like guys! Think about it for a minute. We read about "sexual harassment" and think (that is, most of us think) it means a guy is trying to make some gal uncomfortable by talking to her about sex.

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It was a gorgeous May afternoon. With temperatures hovering in the low 90s, I decided to cut my college classes and spend time down at the pool like any intelligent 19 year old would do. Okay, so it was not my pool. The pool at my cheap-ass apartment complex was still closed for long-overdue maintenance.

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In a couple of weeks I'm running a large party with a group of friends. The organisation side of things is hotting up and there is a flurry of activity in my social circle with all our friends getting ready for the party. On Saturday just past, my wife Samantha decided to go out shopping with her friend Erica to buy clothes for the party. The party is nominally black tie, but the 'understanding' is that it should be a place where people feel comfortable with a more sexy take on the theme.

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As I sit at my desk this morning, I can hardly believe what's happened over the past 24 hours. And it's not as if my life isn't often filled with excitement. But even by those standards, the last day has been extraordinary.

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When I arrived at the tavern, I was trying not to look around too much. In my visualization it was them that approached me, strangers with familiar faces. I tried to appear confident and comfortable, but in all honesty I was neither of those. Sitting casually on a red faux leather stool at the bar, I ordered a Vodka and Soda and drew a deep breath. My lungs registered the dank sticky alcoholic air that I inhaled, the kind of air you can only breathe in a place like this.

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