Your erotic stories

The first time I was with another couple was in California. I worked at night as a musician, spent days running, biking, practicing. Occasionally I'd pick up a movie at the local adult store. Adult store patrons are the same the world over: middle-aged married men, rendezvous-ing gay men, horny twenty-year-old gotta-get-off-NOW men (that was me). Drunks and druggies of all shapes and sizes. A prostitute or two. And the occasional nervous couple.

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"Hello, Frank." I turned and smiled. I expected to see at least a couple of my old teachers when I decided to stop by my old high school, but I was still surprised to see Mrs. Ross standing there. What was even more amazing was that she looked just as hot as I remembered.

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I have a huge problem. I'm 22, 6'1, 175 lbs., with light brown hair and grey eyes. I'm a college student at a prestigious university, and I'm studying psychology. I'm an honor student, and I'm an athlete. I work out, play baseball, lacrosse, and basketball, and I'm in very good shape. My parents are rich, so I've never really had to worry about money.

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You have to understand this: despite my lover's sexuality and beauty, she tends to hide her light under a bushel in public. She rarely wants her physical appearance to be the center of attention. It's a long story as to why this is so, and perhaps that's a story for another time. Suffice it to say that she reminds me of a line from the movie, Moulin Rouge:

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I had been waiting for months for an opportunity to try my new contraption out. Let me back up a little. I am what you would consider a bondage addict. I have always thought of it as being taboo thoughts so I am about as much a closet bondage addict as one can get. For years I would buy adult magazines and have to go to really sleaze places to find what I wanted, then I was so embarrassed having them I would hid them in cracks and crevices I'd find around my living quarters so no one would ever know. My mom and dad never knew, my roommates in college never knew then later in life my wife never knew.

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"Tomorrow's the big day, right Mom?" "Absolutely, Megan. We need to get these two guys on our side regarding the Bankhead drilling project. They're the last two pieces of the puzzle as far as I'm concerned. You know what to do?" "Anything they say. Or want," Megan replied. Amanda smiled. She was the thirty nine year old CEO of GIC Corporation, an energy supplier throughout the northern United States. Their scientists recently discovered an oil and natural gas supply that would keep them in business for decades.

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I woke up Sunday morning with an erection. What else is new, right? I ran my hand down across my chest and belly, over my hard cock and balls, and got the same little thrill I got the first time I touched myself in a sexual way, when I was about 10 years old. Life is good! Forty-two years old and I can still get turned on just by touching myself. I looked over at Cindy to see if she was awake yet.

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We had just gotten married and this is the story of our honeymoon trip. We traveled from a small town in Wisconsin just north of Madison to New York City for a week of fun and games. It was in a room at the Marriott Marquis that first night I introduced Susan to sex. At first, she was a little hesitant but she quickly developed a love of fucking.

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A few years ago I was 18, and like many 18 year old guys I wanted to "get big" so I went to the gym pretty often to work out. My Stepmom was married to my dad not long before my 18th birthday, and recently she had been coming to the gym with me. She liked to stay in shape. She was more than 10 years younger than my dad; she was forty years old and my dad was in his early fifties.

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Naked forms, barely visible, played in the shadows around Darkling Prince. He strode through the town, and laughed at the mortals cowering inside. Halloween, Samhain, whatever they called it in this time, in this place, was when evil spirits roamed the worlds. Darkling roamed, as evil as he needed to be. Far off in the fields, a bonfire raged. Hm, time for some fun, then.

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