Your erotic stories

So there I was again, hanging out in my favourite pub on a busy Saturday night, talking to my buddy Zack, half-focused on him, half-focused on finding a good-looking guy to take home and fuck into oblivion. Yeah, I knew Zack wanted me, and the truth is that I wanted him, too, but neither one of us had ever acted on it. My rationale was: why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because a wet spot formed on my thong whenever I was around him?

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The straps on Gary's backpack were really starting to hurt his shoulders. He'd been walking mostly since he got off the bus 2 hours ago. The dark, cool night air and the long walk were taking their toll on his resolve to find the two girls from the bar where the bus had stopped a few days ago, but he was too far into it now to stop.

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