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This is a fictional story about a romantic cliche, and will push the imagination. It doesn't matter whether you believe the story, just read it and let yourself enjoy it. Facets of this story are based on my real life experience and the characters are modeled after me and a couple of ex-girlfriends, but the rest is my added flair and tease. I don't have the time or energy for negative feedback about my writing. This is a fast paced, fictional erotic story and not a NY Times bestseller. Please relax, enjoy it, and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading.

Any people, places, names, products or events mentioned or inferred are done so without permission or endorsement. This is a work of fiction.

My name is Jeff and I am 24 years old, 5' 11" tall with short black hair, an average build, and a sarcastic sense of humor. I have friends who love me and people who don't get me, it is what it is. From graduation until today, I have had no problem meeting girls, dating, hooking up, whatever. To be completely honest, most of my ex-girlfriends are still my friends and a couple even come around now and then... if you know what I mean. The truth is I treat women like princesses or queens and still believe in romance despite it being 2017 and the social media age. Some women don't like it, some do, I just usually manage to find the independent girls who don't know what they want. A little over a year ago, when she transferred to my work, I met Andrea, a cute blonde who is sweet, loving and became my best friend. ...

This story is part of the EroticStories.com FanClub archive. Therefore, you can only see the first few lines. If you want to see the rest, you can join the FanClub. All stories that have the small 'a' (this icon: ) behind the title are part of this archive and only available to members of the EroticStories FanClub. Stories that were posted in the last 60 days are NOT part of the fanclub, so you can fully read those. The easiest way to get to those stories is to check the new stories list or the top stories list.

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