I don’t know why people keep writing erotic stories to post on the intraweb. There are literally hundreds of billions, if not thousands, of stories. When said stories are written by a man, they all go like this:

(Text is not work safe - expand at your own risk.)

We meet at the hotel. This is our first meeting after exchanging many emails (or IMs). You are a stick-thin woman who walks around in a corset, garter belt, and stockings. I am a man who makes you have an orgasm with just one look.

Our eyes meet. I catch you in my gaze. You gaze at me. I cross the room. I touch you. You feel me touch you. You moan for 48 seconds, at my touch. We touch. It’s touching.

Our lips meet. The passion in our kiss causes your nervous system to shut down. I support you, as your knees become weak and you are unable to stand. Our passion flares.

You take off your clothes and dance for me, because all women love to pretend they’re strippers. Our eyes lock. We look at each other, exchanging knowing looks, knowingly. You reach for my pants and unbuckle my belt. You draw out my throbbing member. Kneeling, you… (Insert 37 paragraphs describing every nanosecond of a blowjob, the paragraphs containing more detail about said blowjob than would a masters thesis on mapping the human genome.)

You are not satiated. You grab my throbbing member. “You have such a beautiful throbbing member!” you coo, looking at my throbbing member. I look at you looking at my throbbing member. My throbbing member looks at me. We exchange knowing winks.

I plunge into your velvet depths. Even though I haven’t touched your clit once, you orgasm immediately. I give you 14 orgasms after thrusting five times. I’m sure I’m your first lover ever.

The end.

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