Your erotic stories

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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Plattsburgh, New York, in the summer of 1970... It had been a rough couple of months for Dustin Wood, and his life seemed to fall apart in every way imaginable. First, his mother passed away in the spring, and with her gone, Dustin's father seemed to change into someone unrecognizable, drinking heavily and taking all of his frustration out on his only son.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading my first attempt at writing erotic fiction, "Unlikely Love". This is the first part of the story, so check back for updates. Also, please feel free to leave comments or suggestions; I would really appreciate them. Thank you. Tonight was like any other Friday night; paying off the bouncer to accept my fake idea and grant me access to the popular gay bar/strip club. Not that it was unusual.

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Most weekends I go down to Hong Kong – I've got a "Fuck Buddy" there who's also into piss play. He's a very hot flight attendant and Asian like me. We're not exclusive – both of us play with others and I'm also in a long term relationship back home (Australia).

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Starting a successful home business is a hard thing, that's for sure. There were many obstacles and difficulties when I started, but now the 'Watson & Co.' is a popular branding. Being an entrepreneur is not easy, let alone when the '& Co.' part of your brand is nonexistent. That's right. There is no one else helping in managing the company but myself. Alexander Watson worked solo.

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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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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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The orgy began to wind down after that. Most of the guys started to pair up and disappear from the playroom. I decide that 4 loads of cum in my asshole and sucking 5 cocks is probably enough for one night. I say good night to Ken and Alex and try to remember the way to my room. I am still naked at this point, and so I decide to grab my clothes form the other room before I go to bed. As I exit the playroom I see 2 of the applicants standing outside the room.

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