Your erotic stories

The bell rings. I look through our bedroom window. Isabelle, a small and beautiful woman, my wife Anne's best friend, is standing in the rain. I run downstairs and open the front door. "Come in, come in," and I make an invitational gesture, not realizing that I'm still holding a knife in my hand. "My God," Isabelle gasps, "what's that big knife for? Cutting meat or something?"

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My last boyfriend broke up with me because I was "too aggressive." Our society expects women to be passive during sex. I have never wanted to be a woman who just lies there, passive and moaning, spread-legged like a frog on a dinner plate. I love to be on top. I always straddled him and put my hands on his forearms so I could pin him down, and then I pounded my pussy into his crotch. When he got close, I'd slow down and go up and down in long, teasing strokes to finish him off.

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The magnificent ballroom of the exclusive Vegas hotel was reserved just for this unique occasion: Naked speed dating. My girl friend had been to this event once before, loved the experience and brought me along this time. The host and hostess of the event swung open the tall, wide ballroom doors dressed only in black top hat, bowtie, cuffs and polished shoes.

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Or so Annabelle thought as she sat in front of the computer, a pile of paperwork at her left, another of unanswered mail at her right. Because while all her friends were at the beach or by a pool enjoying their summer before going away to college, Annabelle was stuck in a law firm, working nine to five and missing on all the fun. Sure, the money was good and the job wasn't too bad, but still, she would love to be out there having fun with all the other people her age.

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Chloe hated having to ride the trains to and from work. Her car was smashed into by some arsehole, while it was parked out the front of her friends place two weekends ago. So until she could save up some money for the repairs, trains and buses were her only option. She was reading a good book to pass the time, but it couldn't block out her horrible surroundings. The trains were always the fucking same. Dirty and vandalised, with seedy looking passengers, some asleep on the seats.

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If I close my eyes, I can still relive that night this past winter when I broke a wonderful man's heart. It was not intentional. Chris Morgan is one of the kindest, most genuine men I know. I tell myself I'm just a human-- far from perfect. We're teachers, you see. My entire purpose is to educate and show love and kindness to all individuals. Chris and I had been showing lots of kindness and making lots of love to each other for about eight months at the time. Chris is the sexiest forty nine year old I have ever seen, and by far the best lover I'd ever had.

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To say that a month ago I was, on the face of it, prim and proper would be an understatement. Tim and I (Jane), met in our first year at high school and were inseparable from that time on and I guess it was always assumed by ourselves and our families that we would get married. Tim was everything I could have ever wanted - the proverbial tall, dark and handsome athletic sort, not to mention incredibly wealthy, once he had established himself in the family law firm which his grandfather had founded.

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The scarf was lying on top of a pile of magazines. The sheer fabric shimmered attractively. I couldn't resist. I had to touch it, feel it flowing over my fingers. I was more excited than I had ever been before. I reached out with a trembling hand and gently took hold of it, gasping at it's soft, slippery texture and almost letting it slide to the floor.

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It started with my first job after leaving school, as an assistant gardener-cum-handyman at a local stately house. I was interviewed by a rather handsome man in his fifties called Clive, and we seemed to hit it off right away, and I figured that must have helped me get the job. It seemed the ideal way to get a foothold into the whole gardening/landscaping industry, and after my first couple of days I knew I'd really landed on my feet. 

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The whole of the extended Franks clan had shown up for Christmas Eve. There were Franks from Denver, Franks from Lincoln and Franks from Kansas City. Ironically there were no Franks from Frankfurt, Connor figured they couldn't make it. Not that it mattered to him, less Franks meant less people to point and whisper.

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