Your erotic stories

I can't believe I'm the only guy who loves his wife, fancies his wife and desires his wife so much, he wants someone else to fuck her. Some guys might understand what I'm saying and others might think I'm making excuses for the fact that I can't possibly love her if I have thoughts such as these. The thoughts would have remained fantasies as my wife, Ellie, would never have entertained the thought of going with another man.

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Amanda hummed to herself as she pushed the door open and stepped into her dimly lit apartment. Tossing her backpack on the floor, she let the door swing shut behind her before sliding the deadbolt shut with a satisfying 'clunk'. The blinds were open enough to allow a sufficient amount of moonlight to shine through the lone meager window in her tiny one bedroom basement suite.

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"It may be a perverted taste, but I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects ... The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements - lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact, muscular frenzy, the clink of gold - that to peer into it makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!" - Gustav Flaubert

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I am a punctual person, as a matter of fact, I am more than punctual. On the norm, I would say I am at least 15 to 20 minutes early for every appointment I have. Unless, of course, I am distracted in some way, then I am only 5 to 10 minutes early. Such was the case this afternoon, as I arrived 15 minutes early for my 4pm appointment.

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Sure, go ahead and call me a square. But I’ll bet I make more money than you do. Besides, being an accountant isn’t all that bad. It’s just like taking the class in high school over and over again; you start to know what’s coming, and it gets easier all the time! Same shit, different day. But this time I didn’t see or know what was coming. My secretary got sacked after her third DUI.

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"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry." His voice was a soft rush as he apologized for letting the door of the shop close on her, banging her hand in it. He grabbed her hand in his and held it firmly. "I didn't realize you were behind me. I'm so oblivious." He rubbed her hand between his, as he would his own if he'd hurt it. She felt a little jolt of electricity race up her arm and looked up into his bright blue eyes. Another jolt raced down her body. She was sure they had never met before but he seemed strangely familiar.

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Sometimes me and Mike just love to go out, pick up a slut or a stud, or a couple of them, and have ourselves nasty threesomes or foursomes. Lately we've really been getting off on picking up guys, especially since about a year ago I got my husband to start messing around with bi guys, even a few gay guys, bringing out Mike's 'bi' side, which I soon discovered was a big part of him.

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He sat in front of her in fifth grade, heckled the teacher and got into trouble a lot, but that just made him more attractive in her ten year old eyes. He sometimes walked her home and showed her his action figures. She had very little interest in action figures, but she paid attention because of her interest in him.

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"Debby Knut with the big old butt." The sound of that chant rings in my ears to this day. In kindergarten I realized that my butt was bigger than most other girls my age. Rather than I noticed, it was actually pointed out to me routinely by other children. "Debby Knut with the big old butt" was sung as I jumped rope while other girls just herd rhymes such as "My Mother told me." I hated having a big butt. Some of the African American girls had butts that resembled mine, and I began hanging out with many of them, in hopes of not feeling different.

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I stood in formation in the hot, stuffy gymnasium: at ease, but hard as hell. The third local official of the day was basically reiterating everything the previous two had said: how proud everyone was of us, that we'd done good work, etcetera, etcetera. I knew I shouldn't feel so fucking ready to get the fuck out of there, but I'd just spent the last thirteen months, seven weeks and four days, thousands and thousands of miles away from the woman of my dreams.

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