Your erotic stories

My wife is a bitch! I use the word bitch to describe my wife's overall personality and not as an adjective to suggest the occasional mood that she exhibits around the house. Oh, she knows that she is a bitch and is most proud of that title. My wife pretty much rules the household and finds it quite delightful to make me squirm should I show the slightest bit of discomfort in her presence. If I look guilty, then I must have done something wrong or I am up to something, she is fond of saying.

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It was the night before Christmas eve, the night of the office Christmas "do" - my least favourite night of the year. It was already dark at around three thirty when I finally managed to slip away from the manufactured merriment in the stuffy and overcrowded Board room. I donned my coat, stealthily dashed up the stairs and headed for my usual 1st floor hideaway.

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"Hey baby?" Uh oh. I've heard that tone of voice before. Whenever you get that sort of introduction, you know that what comes after it can't be good. It usually is followed by something like, We gotta talk. "We gotta talk," she said. Damn. Here I was, relaxing. I had the game controller in my hand, the bad guys in my crosshairs.

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I have always fantasized about anal sex. Even as a teenager, I experienced these urges to get fucked in the ass. There was something about the idea of submitting my body completely to my partner that drove me crazy. Unfortunately, it took years before I found someone who was interested in anal sex. Most of the guys I've dated have only been into "vanilla sex." So my interest in anal sex was reserved for the nights when I was alone and could touch and finger myself…

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Lois wrapped her hair in a towel and put on a robe. Alan hardly looked up from his newspaper as she walked into the kitchen. "Morning," she said. "Hey," he replied. Another minute of silence as he read. Then, "Coffee's ready." She poured a cup, added some sweetener and sat down at the table. Alan read the Sports section. Lois closed her eyes for a minute and gathered her thoughts. Thursday sales meetings suck, she thought.

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"Hey Lindsay, how's it going?" I asked. The brunette student sat on the floor outside my office. She was studying a page of class scribblings that had been transcribed into a dog-eared, spiral-ringed notebook. Even in the dim half-light of the hallway I could make out her lush and curvy form. Whoa! This girl knocked the wind out of my lungs. I had spent several sweaty nights recreating her image in myriad naughty ways.

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I thought I'd tell you about my dream/fantasy/nightmare for a story tonight. My dream starts out with you out in town at a cafe, and an Asian woman coming up and whispering in your ear, "Hi Handsome, you like get lucky?" in her Asian accent. Of course your dick immediately gets hard as you look at her beautiful face and tiny body. Her tits are huge compared to the rest of her, and your dick is harder than its ever been before.

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Dear Diary, I am so embarrassed. This morning, I went to the grocery store around the corner to buy some produce to make zucchini bread and sweet potato pie. While I was in the vegetable section, testing the firmness of zucchini, I noticed a presence next to me. I looked up and saw that it was Kevin, my neighbour. I hadn't realized it but gauging from the expression on his face, it appeared that the way I was handling the zucchini was rather sexual. I was only testing to see how fresh they were, for goodness' sakes.

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The first time I ever performed analingus, I was already past my teens and unbelievably horny and eager to do it. The few girls I had been with before were all fairly young and inexperienced, eager to go down on me right away, then jump on top before I could even move. Don't get me wrong, I like a good blowjob from time to time, but I much prefer going down on women, and I get off from giving them pleasure. Most girls, in my admittedly limited experience at that point, enjoyed receiving cunnilingus from me, but it never felt right to push things further and get a little more kinky.

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"Three thousand dollars for a transmission! that's ridiculous and besides it wasn't my fault that piece of junk broke when I was driving it" Keri exclaimed exasperatedly. I replied "piece of junk or not. it's my car, you weren't supposed to be driving it and from what the mechanic said you were not exactly babying it when it broke. You busted it and you're responsible for getting it fixed."

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