Your erotic stories

Author's Note: In Icelandic folklore, there are many tales of huldufolk—the hidden people. One tells of ljuflingur, huldumen known to seduce and impregnate human women ('ljuflingur' means 'beloved' in Icelandic). Many thanks to mac ropis for the thoughtful comments, spelling/grammar check, and insightful questions! Volunteer Editors are the best idea since oral sex.

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It had been a quiet day at my salon this Friday. I run a small salon in a midsized town in the western U.S. I do hair styling of course, manicures and pedicures and some massage. Some of my women clients like a relaxing massage, but since I’m gay, I assure you, it’s strictly professional.

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Hi everyone this is a little filler between Not To Late and its sequel that I'm working on. Many thanks to my wonderful editor for her help with this. Please leave comments as the help me improve my writing and enjoy. ~#~ "Aww, Miles. Come to bed already! I want to give you an early birthday present," Ryan moaned from the sofa. It was ten thirty at night and Miles was still typing away on his art report.

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It wasn't the way I had expected to be spending a sunny afternoon in June, but I had no complaints. Neither did Joey, the cute eighteen year old guy who was on his back, naked as the day he was born. His cock was hard and from the look on his face, he was enjoying the way my hands were working on his cock and balls.

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I couldn't believe this was the guy I'd be working with. I stopped in my tracks at the doorway and furrowed my brows at the script. TWINK: [Needs to be expressive, bubbly, seductive, cute] The description listed all of the stereotypical roles of a twink, but this guy sitting beside Dave—or should I say on the same couch as Dave, as they were by no means near each other—was anything but. Dave insists upon introducing his actors in his house beforehand, to sort of break the ice in a relaxed atmosphere (instead of an awkward first meeting on set).

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I was a late bloomer when I was a kid, a total nerd. I didn't start masturbating until I was nearly 18 and was afraid to ask a girl out for fear of rejection. I had been on one "blind date" of sorts and it had been a total disaster.

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I'm have been torn for years about whether or not I am gay. Years ago I had an experience with a hitchhiker that lead me to write and post on Lit a story titled Am I Gay? What I am about to tell will answer that question once and for all. I began an online correspondence with a guy after meeting him on a gay chat site. Like me he is married, but is much younger than me. We would chat on yahoo messenger and talk about sucking cock and how much we both wanted to try it.

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Names of Characters in this story are fictitious and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. * With my cock straining to get loose from my jeans, I looked forward to seeing him every noon hour. He'd eat his sandwich, some cookies and an apple, while looking in my sport-card shop window. By now, I felt like I knew him. And when he'd left, I'd fantasize him naked in the back room, moaning, ecstatically, and pressing my face into his thick, black, pubic hair. 'Oh, yeah, man, get right down on my big, fat, uncut cock,' he'd shout, and I'd obediently do everything he commanded.

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It was a brisk Thursday in January and, despite the breezy cold, the sun was shining. The contrast of the glimmering, melting snow against the radiant sunshine was a paradox of reality that I seemed to grapple with in my own daily life. I paused getting ready and my mind began racing, torturing my ability to focus. I snapped out of my lingering gaze and finished buttoning my trench coat.

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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.

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