Your erotic stories

I picked up this slut at a dyke bar I like, a notorious pick-up joint for horny lesbians looking to take a walk on the wild side. She was a college student from the State U. campus and was down there looking for some action. I took her home with me and we spent a torrid, sweaty two hours going at each other until we collapsed, our pussies raw, our bodies worn and sweaty. We'd just taken a shower and were lying around, naked, sharing a bottle of wine.

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"My ass is virgin," Eden had told me on our first date. A simple statement, quite out of place for an average date. A statement that might have meant "but you can fuck my cunt all you want, I'm a slut" or "I'm saving it for the right guy - is that you?" Or both? I certainly took it as a challenge, because I was ready to be somebody's Mr. Right, and I had a bit of a soft spot for sluts. I had married one, after all.

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Her heart pounded in her ears as she listened to the sound of her black Chanel pumps clicking on the floor. They were a constant sound, one of comfort, to one who was about to do the unthinkable. At least to her. She felt dampness on her upper lip and stopped at the Ladies Room before making her appointment. Once inside she dabbed at her face with blotting tissue and looked herself up and down in the mirror.

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It had been a busy day at work, I didn't get a chance to call you so I decided to stop by your hospital room to say hello. Your surgery had been a simple procedure, but you were still required to stay a few days to make sure that your knee was better. I was surprised to hear that you would be out in two days. Being away from you had been difficult at first, but knowing that I'd have you all to myself again soon was enough to keep me horny.

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Everything was arranged the way I wanted it. We'd been building up to this point slowly. The entire anal experience was new to us, but we'd heard it was wonderful for some, unpleasant for others. It was time to find out for ourselves. I remember how I approached the subject with him. For years he'd been against the idea, but in all honesty so had I.

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Well, I was old enough to know that life doesn't always work out exactly as you want it to. Justin and I had been married for ten years and, frankly, the passion had faded. We were both deep into our careers, I was a property manager for a local upscale real estate developer and hubby managed a district branch of a large insurance company. So, we were pretty happy career-wise and financially, it was the once-every-other-week fuck that I was getting that was disappointing.

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The alarm. Again. He had heard it now maybe twice before, and always at intervals of 10 minutes. Time just enough to fall back into dreaming--the plot continues but is now informed by that subliminal contingency of just 10 minutes more. Shit. Why don't she turn the fucking thing off?

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My adolescent sexual experiences, beyond some clumsy groping under tops and skirts at the movies once or twice, were confined to my solo routine until going off to university. My first true lover was my dorm-mate Jane, who was as naïve and adventurous as I was at that time, and though she didn't have the same desire to have me play with her ass, she was always very considerate of my needs. After college, I was fortunate to meet another considerate woman, much older than I, who introduced me to a new world of pleasure with her vibrators and anal beads.

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We had seen each other many times, always going to and from work; but we had never spoken. Usually passing each other in the lobby, and sometimes riding in the same elevator to the top of the hi-rise; it's a huge building and with people stopping on every floor the rides take forever some days. I also knew that you had seen me watching you – admiring the way you walked, the outfits you wore, any glimpse I could get. From the smiles and looks you occasionally gave me, I even thought you enjoyed teasing me some.

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Kiara tried to focus on what her professor was saying, but she was finding it increasingly difficult, as thoughts of last night's events kept on replaying in her mind. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she noticed the dampness in the panties she was wearing. She finally gave up on trying to concentrate on the professor, and rested her pen down on her notes.

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