Your erotic stories

For years, my husband, Noah, has been asking me for anal sex. Each time he asks, I giggle and say, "Not tonight sweetheart, but maybe sometime." Each time, I see the longing in his eyes as he accepts the rejection and snuggles in behind me, wrapping his big, strong arms around me and drifts off to sleep. It has been about 1.5 years since the last time he asked me, due in large part to me getting pregnant and the birth on our twins, and I'm beginning to wonder if he has given up any hope or conquering my ass.

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I sat at the kitchen table and stared into my coffee like it was an oracle that could tell me what to do next. I honestly had never even considered this possibility. Not that I felt bad about that. Who could possibly have expected this? When Cathy appeared in that doorway, I thought I was going to die. My first thought had been that she was catching me in the act of cheating on her.

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I have always been attracted to my sister in law Brenda. Even though she can be a bitch, I thought she was very sexy. I've found myself trying to look at her in different situations. I remember the first time I saw her naked breast. Brenda and her husband were just back from vacation at the beach and unloading the car. She bent over in front of me and I could see the full view of her breast down her blouse. The nipples were long and puffy on her small breasts.

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The two of us together for a whole weekend, no family, no school, no work, just us and a hotel room. MMMM sounds pretty good to me sugar. As usual you are there before I am but we're on the phone with each other as I park and get my things out of the car. "Make sure the water in the Jacuzzi is good and hot darling, I'm on my way up."

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We're in the car, together, driving north. The road moves under us like a ribbon, like we are winding along some impossible Escher reality, twisting and turning on it and somehow we can travel all the sides of it and still find our way back to the side we started on. I feel as though we've entered our own space, and we shuttle forth in it, embraced in the upholstered steel womb of the car. There’s a world beyond the windows, I know, but it seems like some movie, a private illusion personally crafted for us.

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I met Cathy by chance at a party in Germany seventeen years ago. She was on holiday, and I had been living there for a few years but was moving home a couple of months later. She gave me her phone number, and I called at the first opportunity after getting settled. A visit followed shortly. I didn't know what to expect. I probably didn't expect anything.

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Maggie couldn't believe her luck. She knew she had been a long shot for the assignment to cover the first Mardis Gras in New Orleans after the flood. At twenty-two years of age she was only one of a large group of junior writers at the paper, but she had been working hard and producing some good writing and had been rewarded with the job.

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Julia picked up another glass of champagne as she glanced around the room. "Pompous assholes," she thought to herself, taking a sip of the drink, watching the endless parade of rich old men arm in arm with their trophy wives. Julia hated these functions and cringed at the mere mention of attending one. It was her duty, however, as her husband expected her to be there hanging off his arm like all the other fake plastic gold diggers that frequented fundraisers such as this one.

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"Hold, Gil, right there. Let me get used to it." I complied with a low, pleading moan, pulsing wildly inside the first asshole ever to grip the head of my erection. Nerve endings I didn't know I possessed screamed for me to move, but I listened to Joanna Hathaway, who a scant half-hour prior to positioning herself prone on the floor and offering me her ass to plunder, had unbuttoned my plaid shirt and pilfered my virginity with a sweet vengeance.

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The RA’s jokingly call the bathrooms in my residence hall “gender blind”. In this case, I supposed that fits, because I never did see the girl. But in most cases, it just means that all the bathrooms are coed; don’t ask, don’t look, in other words. There are only 30 people in the whole hall making it more of a house, really, and 25 of them are girls. Yeah, a little lopsided, but who’s going to complain, huh? The guys? I’m the only male on my floor out of 15!

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