April 13, 2007
My neighborhood pal Dennis and I had grown up together, goading and daring each other into lots of stupid boy-type stuff. I recall one warm summer night while we were out riding bikes, I dared him to ride out to the lemon shed with his fly open and his dick hanging out. We just did stupid adolescent stuff like that as we were growing up.
Anyway, after graduating from high school, we both chose to continue living at our parent’s homes, and attend the local community college. Dennis had a sister who was knocked up that year. He had once spied on her while she was sucking the presumed father’s cock [a Navy guy]. We joked around about how Janet could have saved herself 9 months of grief if she had just kept that fucking prick in her mouth. Oh well, Janet’s pregnancy wasn’t our problem. Our problem was that we were healthy 18 year old males, horny as hell, and NOT getting any.
Anyway, in early January that year, Janet popped the kid. Dennis’s parents wanted to spin down to San Diego [200 miles away] and mee
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April 11, 2007
I was certain my queasy and debilitating feeling of frustration would end if I could only lick the trail of hair that descended, from Dusty’s belly button, into the top of his jeans. One side of my brain told me to just do it, while, the other side told me I could destroy the friendship we’d enjoyed since starting kindergarten, thirteen years ago. I’d always felt a powerful attraction to Dusty Burton and had, always, to be close to him; and though he had never indicated that he felt the same about me, I hoped he had.
There could be no doubt his roguish, good looks had a great deal to do with the magnetic attraction I’d been concealing. His light brown, brush cut and piercing, blue eyes gave him the appearance of a ruffian and a troublemaker. Whenever there was a problem in the neighbourhood, It would be a foregone conclusion, on the part of all the grownups, that Dusty Burton was the instigator. Most hadn’t bothered to really know him as I had. His constant, calculating grin and I-don’t-give-a-shit att
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March 31, 2007
I read every word. Then I read it again. “This is to certify that ———– has been Honorable Discharged from the United States Navy, etc., etc., etc.” My sea bag was packed, I was wearing my dress blues and my shoes were shined. I headed for the quarterdeck one last time. A snappy salute to the Officer of the Deck and a salute to the flag, my sea bag on my shoulder, I descended the gangplank to the pier. I turned around and looked at the ship once more, the ship that was my home for the past three years. As all sailors do, I had a great affection for my ship. We were in battle together. We survived. I was proud to have served aboard her. I saw Pete waving to me from the hanger deck.
“Let’s have one last drink together at that local bar,” he yelled.
“OK,” I yelled back, “I’ll wait for you there.”
I toted my sea bag (all I had in the world) to the bar, just off the base. When I walked in it was as if I were experiencing a de’javu. Same bartender, another baseball game on the same TV. I plopp
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March 30, 2007
4
I was almost shaking as I went down to the basement. What had I done? What was going to happen? Adam had long-since gone. I stopped on our floor on the way down to check. Would he say anything? It was about as bad a situation as one could be in. Better yet, I had the whole weekend to worry about it. And worry about it I did.
I tried to phone him the next day, to no avail; I just got his voice mail. I hoped that he wouldn’t tell anyone. I figured he wouldn’t tell anyone in the management. I mean, who would even mention that? How would you start such a conversation? In any case, he was young too; how offended could he be? But I thought he might mention it to my colleagues; after all, what a coup! I could just imagine that conversation in the canteen the next day, in my absence! It was so difficult to judge. No-one could accuse me of doing something morally wrong, as an individual, but in the corporate setting it seemed so bad.
Despite my worries about the outcome, I found the memory of it incredibly ex
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March 28, 2007
I was in NYC; I had just finished the first leg of my third tour promoting my new album, when I was woken up from an alcohol-induced sleep by a call from my manager.
“Hey good news!” Russ chortled into the phone. I glanced at the clock and groaned for two reasons. One it was only 7am and I had just passed out, err, fallen asleep at 4am, and his “good news” rarely was.
I mumbled, “What’s the good news?”
“I got a call from a really wealthy business man in upstate New York, he wants to book you for a private show tonight.” Before I could protest that I was supposed to have the next few days off, he came back with, “he offered $500,000 for a two hour show. He’ll send a private plane for you, and he has the cash in hand. What say you boyo?”
I sat up in bed and lit a cigarette; “I’ll have to run it past the band…”
“No, no. He doesn’t want the whole band, just you. Acoustic set, unplugged and all that sort of stuff.” Russ lowered his voice; “he offered me a $25,000 booking fee up front if
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March 24, 2007
I was certain my queasy and debilitating feeling of frustration would end if I could only lick the trail of hair that descended, from Dusty’s belly button, into the top of his jeans. One side of my brain told me to just do it, while, the other side told me I could destroy the friendship we’d enjoyed since starting kindergarten, thirteen years ago. I’d always felt a powerful attraction to Dusty Burton and had, always, to be close to him; and though he had never indicated that he felt the same about me, I hoped he had.
There could be no doubt his roguish, good looks had a great deal to do with the magnetic attraction I’d been concealing. His light brown, brush cut and piercing, blue eyes gave him the appearance of a ruffian and a troublemaker. Whenever there was a problem in the neighbourhood, It would be a foregone conclusion, on the part of all the grownups, that Dusty Burton was the instigator. Most hadn’t bothered to really know him as I had. His constant, calculating grin and I-don’t-give-a-shit att
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March 19, 2007
A short period of time ago I received the following e-mail from someone I had never met before.
I read with much interest your yahoo profile. It seems you may be what I am looking for to finally realize a long time fantasy. I am a 42 year old married male that excites at the possibility of providing oral to another married male (uncut being a big plus) (and bigger then my 5″, even better!!) Me, 5′7″ 165… I responded and asked him to describe himself a bit more and whether he could entertain.
I am a professional, educated, discreet male. NO experience. VERY DISCREET… AND CAN ENTERTAIN. Considered attractive… avg. body shape. Also uncut… trimmed pubes and shaved balls. (Do you trim??)
Have you had any takers?? Any experience?? Please, at your earliest convenience I would very much enjoy hearing from you. I also thrill at the possibility of you looking at photos (xxx) of my very pretty, fit wife… perhaps while being serviced.
sincerely…
A number of years ago I experienced the desire to b
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March 11, 2007
FOREWORD
During 2002, Literotica.com challenged volunteer writer’s to create stories for as many story categories as possible. This chapter is part of a novel length story relating a journey of awakenings, discovery and growth involving a number of people. For your entertainment, and mine, I’ll be submitting chapters into at least 17 different story categories. I don’t believe anything like this has been tried here before.
I can promise those readers who are familiar with my work that you’ll find a ton of very erotic reading that will appeal a wide variety of tastes, even though I intentionally attempted to have at least one turn on for anyone visiting Literotica. This saga features mostly caring, even romantic sex, but it’ll occasionally flirt mildly with a “fetish” so a given chapter will genuinely qualify for that category.
Many of these chapters could go into many different Literotica story categories. Many of these chapters could be submitted as First Time, Erotic Couplings, Lesbian, OR Incest
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March 6, 2007
As the daylight broke, I found myself in a hot lust filled dream. A beautiful man was giving my cock an incredible round of servicing. Up and down my hard shaft. And in that dream I suddenly found light pressure against my lips as my faceless lover lightly pressed his dick toward my mouth. The tip glistened with pre-cum and had a familiar and pleasant salty-sweet taste.
As I started to awaken from my dream sleep I quickly became aware that it was not a dream at all. My boyfriend, my lover of three years, Nate was positioned over me in an inviting 69 position. I had met Nate at school as an 18 year-old freshman who had just come out to my family and close friends. He, too, was newly “out” and we stuck up a friendship that had grown into a love affair. We became roommates in the second semester and had shared rooms, lives, and a passion for each other ever since.
As sophomores we moved off campus and had found a one-bedroom apartment. We shared a king-sized bed and always slept naked together. Nate has a c
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March 3, 2007
temporary
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February 22, 2007
I was on the varsity baseball team as a freshman in college. I guess I was pretty hot shit, if I do say so myself. I was an All-Star shortstop in high school, and broke a school hitting record by the time I was a sophomore. I was being heavily recruited by both college and pro teams by the end of my junior year, and I had no shortage of dates with pretty girls. I lived in a relatively small town, and sex was pretty much accepted as the weekend pasttime. I was as horny as any high school guy, I guess, so I’d had my fair share of pussy by the time I graduated.
I had already decided to go to college and get an education instead of going pro right out off high school, so by the time I had my stuff packed, it was time to head of and begin working out with the other new guys on the team. Most of them came from big cities with big schools and big egos…but I let my playing do the talking for me. Within a few days, I had made a lot of friends and was feeling right at home.
One day after practice, coach came in an
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February 21, 2007
It was raining steadily and I was soaking wet and cold. I had missed the last bus and still had 15 miles to go when I heard a car approaching from behind. I turned quickly and raised my arm, the driver passed me and then stopped. I ran to the car and a man of around 50 opened the door and said “Get in quickly” which I did and the car gathered speed, ” Where are you heading for” he asked. “I’m on my way back to the Training College but I missed my damned bus and started to walk.”
“What you really need is to dry out and a warm drink inside you, I live on the way and you can come to my place if you wish, or do you have to be back tonight?.”
“No, I have the weekend to myself, the College is empty, and if it’s not too much bother I would like to get out of these wet clothes.”
There was a strange look in his eyes as he spoke
“Great idea, I am alone at home tonight, so full speed ahead and we’ll get those wet clothes off you. By the way, my name is Jim.”
“I’m George and glad to meet you on
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February 20, 2007
It was raining steadily and I was soaking wet and cold. I had missed the last bus and still had 15 miles to go when I heard a car approaching from behind. I turned quickly and raised my arm, the driver passed me and then stopped. I ran to the car and a man of around 50 opened the door and said “Get in quickly” which I did and the car gathered speed, ” Where are you heading for” he asked. “I’m on my way back to the Training College but I missed my damned bus and started to walk.”
“What you really need is to dry out and a warm drink inside you, I live on the way and you can come to my place if you wish, or do you have to be back tonight?.”
“No, I have the weekend to myself, the College is empty, and if it’s not too much bother I would like to get out of these wet clothes.”
There was a strange look in his eyes as he spoke
“Great idea, I am alone at home tonight, so full speed ahead and we’ll get those wet clothes off you. By the way, my name is Jim.”
“I’m George and glad to meet you on
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February 15, 2007
My black lover has an ashy-looking, grey film streaked and splotched on his body. So when we get together for sex I smooth baby oil all over his body - on his face, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, legs, the front and back of them, on his back, firm buttocks, in his crack. I wipe it down with a soft hand towel. Then he sheens, his black skin glistening, big cock up hard, leaking lots of pre-cum.
Since he is so ready he wastes little time with me. He wants me to kiss, lick, suck his nipples; kiss down his chest onto his abs, tongue his navel; kiss, lick, mouth his ballsack; kiss, lick his butt cheeks, lick his crack and rim his puckered hole; come back up and kiss, lick, suck his cock, take it in my mouth.
Once he has his cock in my mouth he fucks my face. He holds me gently by the back of my head, on my neck, and pushes his cock slowly, slowly, deep into my throat. He can sense when he has cut off my air and I am about to gag, choke on the big head of his thick meat. He can even see it bulging in my
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February 14, 2007
© Sadie Rose Bermingham 2006
“Woo hoo!! Chapter Eleven already. This chapter caused me great emotional difficulty so I hope you guys have managed to bear with me since it’s taken much longer than normal to produce.
The usual terms and conditions apply. Josh and Sadie Rose own the copyright to this random work of genius. Anyone publishing it without consent deserves whatever we decide to do to them in retaliation! You have been warned!!
BEYOND EVIL
“He will come back,” Aldo soothed for the umpteenth time that day as he came to sit up on the top deck with Ant, sipping a Margarita. “He has nothing to wear, so he is not going to leave the Cap, no?”
“You don’t know him,” Ant exhaled, still staring out at the road beyond the harbour, waiting for the familiar dark head to appear in the distance, slim shoulders slumped, demeanour already chastened. He would know, he had already decided; from Rayne’s very stance he would know the truth of the matter. ‘If’ the boy decided to come back at all, that w
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February 12, 2007
It was a beautiful spring morning that beckoned me out of bed and into my hiking gear. The lake, on which I had taken a small cabin for a week, was surrounded by state forest and had many walking trails, and I was eager to get out and explore.
I walked at a leisurely yet constant pace for hours, stopping here and there to admire the picturesque scenery of this beautiful area. It wasn’t until my stomach rumbled that I thought about heading back. I set a brisk pace back in the direction I thought I had come from, but it became apparent very quickly that the trail I had chosen was leading me away from where I wanted to go.
I wasn’t in a panic, because I was on a marked trail and it was obviously well used, so I knew I’d be OK, but it was a little disconcerting. I figured if I headed for the lake, then stuck to the shore line I would eventually find my way back to the cabin. Finding the lake when you’re surrounded by forest is harder than it may sound, especially when the paths (which I didn’t want to lea
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February 11, 2007
I paused nervously at the top of the stairs leading down into the club. The air was smoky and the room dimly lit. The heavy bass of the speakers seemed to clutch at the pit of my belly. Slowly I moved down the staircase, descending into a maelstrom of sound and smoke. Every step made me more nervous as I went further down. I silently cursed my sister’s boyfriend, Max. This had been his idea of a dare for my twenty-first birthday. I never knew how, but he always seemed able to goad me into rising to his challenges. This time he had challenged me to do something completely wild and out of character. I had claimed to be open-minded and ready for anything he might suggest. Then he had thought up this. He had challenged me to go to a club of his choice and allow a regular of the club to pick me up. I had agreed, thinking he would send me to one of the local clubs where older women went in search of younger guys.
Max had named this club, one I had never even heard of. I had imagined some drunken ageing slut, rad
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February 7, 2007
I read every word. Then I read it again. “This is to certify that ———– has been Honorable Discharged from the United States Navy, etc., etc., etc.” My sea bag was packed, I was wearing my dress blues and my shoes were shined. I headed for the quarterdeck one last time. A snappy salute to the Officer of the Deck and a salute to the flag, my sea bag on my shoulder, I descended the gangplank to the pier. I turned around and looked at the ship once more, the ship that was my home for the past three years. As all sailors do, I had a great affection for my ship. We were in battle together. We survived. I was proud to have served aboard her. I saw Pete waving to me from the hanger deck.
“Let’s have one last drink together at that local bar,” he yelled.
“OK,” I yelled back, “I’ll wait for you there.”
I toted my sea bag (all I had in the world) to the bar, just off the base. When I walked in it was as if I were experiencing a de’javu. Same bartender, another baseball game on the same TV. I plopp
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January 30, 2007
I read every word. Then I read it again. “This is to certify that ———– has been Honorable Discharged from the United States Navy, etc., etc., etc.” My sea bag was packed, I was wearing my dress blues and my shoes were shined. I headed for the quarterdeck one last time. A snappy salute to the Officer of the Deck and a salute to the flag, my sea bag on my shoulder, I descended the gangplank to the pier. I turned around and looked at the ship once more, the ship that was my home for the past three years. As all sailors do, I had a great affection for my ship. We were in battle together. We survived. I was proud to have served aboard her. I saw Pete waving to me from the hanger deck.
“Let’s have one last drink together at that local bar,” he yelled.
“OK,” I yelled back, “I’ll wait for you there.”
I toted my sea bag (all I had in the world) to the bar, just off the base. When I walked in it was as if I were experiencing a de’javu. Same bartender, another baseball game on the same TV. I plopp
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January 27, 2007
I read every word. Then I read it again. “This is to certify that ———– has been Honorable Discharged from the United States Navy, etc., etc., etc.” My sea bag was packed, I was wearing my dress blues and my shoes were shined. I headed for the quarterdeck one last time. A snappy salute to the Officer of the Deck and a salute to the flag, my sea bag on my shoulder, I descended the gangplank to the pier. I turned around and looked at the ship once more, the ship that was my home for the past three years. As all sailors do, I had a great affection for my ship. We were in battle together. We survived. I was proud to have served aboard her. I saw Pete waving to me from the hanger deck.
“Let’s have one last drink together at that local bar,” he yelled.
“OK,” I yelled back, “I’ll wait for you there.”
I toted my sea bag (all I had in the world) to the bar, just off the base. When I walked in it was as if I were experiencing a de’javu. Same bartender, another baseball game on the same TV. I plopp
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