Your erotic stories

I vacationed in a small fishing village on the gulf coast of Mexico a few times a year, back in my younger days. I was introduced to the place by a friend of mine and I won't say what village or exactly where because I don't want a flood of tourists there. That place was fifty years in the past or so it seems. Life was slow and having fun was as much of a way of life as making a living.

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I roll over lazily, aroused by my dreams after collapsing into bed completely horny but equally tired the night before. I set my eyes on you, still sleeping but just beginning to stir. My heart starts to beat a little faster at the thought of feeling your bare skin, smooth and tan. As I caress your beautifully defined shoulders they boast of the diligence you give your morning swims.

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The credits on my video just started rolling when my wife came home from a party. The front door opened in a natural swing, but the volume of her movements let me know that she had been drinking. I imagined that she had a couple of glasses of wine, so I immediately wondered who drove her home. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when I heard an engine make way from the house.

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Something Monica loved to do a few times a week, when she could, was to go canoeing on the lake adjacent to campus. That was one reason she decided to go to college here, because the campus was located on a large lake, a lake big enough to canoe on for hours on end. She usually canoed alone. She enjoyed the serenity of being by herself out in the middle of the big, tranquil lake, gliding along silently across the smooth waters.

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I rested my head in my hands as I stared up at the clock. "3:48?" I muttered in disgust. I was twelve minutes away from beginning my weekend, but it seemed as though time was grinding to a halt. I had finished with my last client an hour earlier and was simply waiting out the rest of my shift. I groaned again and looked out over the gym. To further my disappointment there were not even any half decent women to look at.

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Mark came in from work and the first thing he noticed was music; the blues, rhythmic, and somewhat sensual. A glance in the room reveals nothing, so he slowly proceeds through the house. He sees her now, in the kitchen; her back is turned and she is attempting to reach something on the upper shelf of an opened cabinet. Her body is stretched to its limits, the muscles firm and taunt; but the first thing he notices is THAT skirt: jet black, very tight, and extremely short. Immediately he begins to awaken.

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Mark lazily stabbed his fork at the frozen meal, puncturing the plastic before shoving it in the microwave. He set the timer before taking a long sip of his beer, his third of the evening. He tossed the package toward the garbage, already overflowing with similar boxes and the matching dirty trays. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he scratched at the rough beard on his jaw.

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Hotel and motel rooms always seem to hold a certain special atmosphere about them: an almost indescribable, but no less undeniable aura of sex. The kinds of sex that permeate these plastic, manicured, temporary lodgings varies as widely as the colours of the spectrum: there is forbidden sex, illicit sex, bad sex, mediocre sex, good sex, great sex, amazing sex, marital sex, extra-marital sex, awkward sex, first-time sex, last-time sex, grudge sex, gentle sex, drunken sex, unwilling sex, ravaging sex, guilt sex, revenge sex, straight sex, gay sex, thrill sex, kinky sex, make-up sex, rough sex, farewell sex, and base, raw, lustful sex.

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Rose rushed down the stairs to the subway platform, having heard the train coming in. She squeezed onto the packed commuter train knowing there was no use in waiting for another as they would all be packed. On days like these she was glad she was tall, she couldn't imagine being on such a packed train and not being able to see any further than the suit of the person squished up against her. She was also glad she had pulled her long auburn hair up into a high ponytail, otherwise she risked it getting caught on someone's buttons.

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She was one of those short, curvy girls, dark complexioned, chest-length brown feathery hair, big blue eyes and adorable features. She was also dressed in pretty standard bar clothes, a loose-fitting tank top, expensive, low-riding ass-hugging jeans and open-toed shoes, showing off her smooth, cute toes painted hot pink. I'd always wanted to fuck a girl like her.

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