Your erotic stories

"I sure hope the weather holds," I commented, to no one in particular, even though my wife, Erin, was the only other person in the car. "The weatherman said it was supposed to storm around six this evening." "Yeah, well, he could be wrong." Erin voiced her mistrust of weathermen in general. "It's so overcast. If we get stuck in this storm, we'll be really screwed. I think we're about there. "

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I'm a fifty-two year old guy on a long dreamed of sightseeing trip through the Scenic Byways of Oregon and Crater Lake. Then I'll head up the Coast highway into Washington State to see Mt. Rainier and Mt. St Helen's after which I'll catch a plane back to my home in North Carolina. I'm retired so time is not important at all. I rented the car in San Francisco and plan to return it up at the Seattle-Tacoma airport. (SeaTac)

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My name is Colin and I'm 23 years old. I was never a real jock as I grew up. I was taller and more broad-shouldered than my friends, but I didn't exercise much and so didn't develop a strong physique. Until I landed a sweet job as an engineer at a big electronics company right out of college. The campus where my office was located had a big fitness center that was free to use for employees.

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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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After everything they went through, Andi, Nicki, and Janis decided that sororities were not for them. Andi was glad that she "had what it took" to be in one of the finer sororities, but she had more fun just hanging out with the girls at the apartment. Nicki was as popular as ever with the boys, and she was only a sophomore. Her goals were already met, and the sorority was of no use to her.

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For a few weeks about a year ago my best friend, Ethan, kept telling me how he found the perfect girl. At all of 21 years old he was certain. He found a girl that was "like a model", "witty", and "full of life." After what seemed like eternity he finally decided to "showcase" her (as he so eloquently put it). See, here's the thing about Ethan. While he is a smart guy that has a defined body, he's very egotistical, self-centered, and incredibly dependant on being the guy everyone wants to be (even though none of his friends want to be like him).

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"Here we are -- home, sweet home," announced Amber as the car pulled up out the front of a battered old caravan down the far end of the park. "Looks great," I said, getting out of the back seat. "Homely. Looks like it hardly would leak at all in a storm."

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The dry warm spring day began to cool and I finally emerged from the reverie of fishing. All day I had fly fished on this desert river. The spring runoff from the surrounding mountains swelled the stream and kept me from feeling the heat of midday, but as the sun set the cold water began to chill me. I realized that I must pack my gear and try to find the road out of this wild place. Finding such an ideal spot, that was completely deserted, had been my goal and by using maps and conjecture I had successfully found the place I desired.

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We'd talked about this early on in our relationship. But that was maybe 10 years ago at best. Back when we were both young and really adventurous, especially where sex was concerned. It hadn't come up in conversation in a long time. It had suddenly made an appearance again late one night when we were sitting on the couch relaxing after a long day at work for both of us. There we sat, leaning back against the couch, facing one another, a wine glass in my hand and a beer in his.

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Trillions is where you go to get laid. It's not a private club, but you do have to look a certain way to get through the door. Well-groomed, is perhaps the most polite way to phrase it. I flatter myself that I do try and take care of my looks. While photographing models I've picked up a few hints and tips, and I'm not too modest to say that I've been mistaken for one of them on occasion. For your benefit, I'm five-seven tall in bare feet, trim figure, 34C bust, with shortish blonde hair. My eyes are clear blue, and I have very full, soft lips, or so I've been told.

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