Your erotic stories

My wife and I have been married for almost two decades and have been swinging for most of them. We used to get each other hot by reading Penthouse letters to each other. In our first home together, Stacey would often lay out with a friend while I was at work and they would also read these stories to each other. Fiction led to reality and we eventually had our first swinging experience with her girlfriend and another friend.

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It wasn't every day that Andee had the chance to travel for work, but this time was exciting. She had been selected to attend a training session in Denver for a week and she was determined to make the most of the experience. After checking into the hotel, she headed down to the lounge to get something to eat. It was a pretty quiet place, with only a handful of guests sitting at the various tables. Andee found an empty stool near the end of the bar and made small talk with the bartender.

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One of the most beautiful women I know is Danni Davis. Melissa is the only lady friend I have who might be better looking, and that would be a matter of just barely. Fortunately, neither of these gorgeous ladies has ever asked me to judge a beauty contest between them, because I really don't know who would win. Let's just say Danni is the most beautiful blonde and that Melissa is her Titian haired counterpart, and leave it at that.

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I sat in my office and tried not to think about the last class I had just taught. I enjoy teaching, and this summer's group of bright, eager young faces was especially fun, a break from my regular routine of working in my field. One face was just too bright though. Rebecca. Tall and willowy, with long auburn hair and a graceful figure, she was just too attentive, too nice, and too eager.

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It was the middle of a cold December day. I sat there in my small, unclean apartment just passing the time while watching TV. I had the day off. That's usually a good thing but today it wasn't a big deal. Most people were too busy to even do anything. Christmas was only a few days away. I was alone.

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Every man should have a hobby. Some guys like to collect stamps. Others climb mountains, scuba dive or garden. Me? My hobby is fucking old women. And like any worthwhile hobby, you've got to put the time in to make it worthwhile. I mean, if mountain climbing is your hobby, you know it's about more than standing on the peak of the mountain. It's preparation and the rigor of the challenge. Hell, you could have a helicopter take you to the mountaintop if that was all it was about.

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I wake up. My room is darker than I've ever seen it, pitch black with no moonlight slipping in through the drapes. I start to move my hand to search for the candle on the bedside table and find that I can't – my arm doesn't respond. The sensation brings me wide awake and I try moving my legs, panic setting in when I can't shift them and realize I have lost the power of movement. I want to open my mouth to cry out for help but a tightly stretched fabric muffles my lips.

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A hotel room in the Midwest Matthew Roderick pulled his pants up while looking at his latest prize, a six-foot blond of maybe 120 pounds and a figure which looked at best like a stretched hourglass, very stretched. She looked undernourished, especially up close and naked. Up until eight hours ago, when they finally hopped into the sack together in his hotel room, two travelers looking to end their latest business trips with a bang, she'd looked rather exotic, though a bit scantier than Matt's usual prey.

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Sorry it's quick, I just wanted to have a story out there, so please tell me what you think, and again, I know it's to quick. Jasmine was watching some dogs wrestle outside one day while she was grounded, even though she was 18, but according to her dad she can still get grounded until she moves out. Truthfully she was jealous of the dogs being able to go outside. She was sitting in her room, playing with her orange hair. She had cup C breast and grey eyes. It was very hot this day so she wore a bikini set and was still sweating.

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The neighborhood seemed neat, quiet, and well-established, a lot like Bette herself. The little apartment building fit the surroundings comfortably. I checked my directions one more time, and found her door, number three. I noted the silly coincidence -- this was to be the third time we'd been together. As I raised my hand to knock on the door, I noticed that my mouth had gone to cotton, like a nervous teenager. I guess you never outgrow some things. (I hope not!)

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