Your erotic stories

The flight back to Boston was only half full that night. We filed into the cabin and went through the usual routines of cramming more luggage than was technically permitted into the overhead compartments and under the seats. With so few people, however, there was plenty of space for everyone as well as all their belongings.

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My last boyfriend broke up with me because I was "too aggressive." Our society expects women to be passive during sex. I have never wanted to be a woman who just lies there, passive and moaning, spread-legged like a frog on a dinner plate. I love to be on top. I always straddled him and put my hands on his forearms so I could pin him down, and then I pounded my pussy into his crotch. When he got close, I'd slow down and go up and down in long, teasing strokes to finish him off.

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It's been a long week. Friday has finally arrived and we're able to relax and spend some time together. We're dancing around the kitchen preparing supper together; or you are trying to prepare it. I'm trying to be helpful, but seem to be succeeding only getting in your way. You've scowled at me, flicked the dishtowel against my breasts, and slapped my bottom with a wooden spoon. I can't help but wonder about the way this evening will end.

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We were lying on the bed, exhausted, covered from head to toe in sweat, my warmth oozing from you as we kissed. My tongue explored your lips just as my hands explored your naked flesh, your chest rising heavily up and down from the exertion moments before. But it was just the beginning. "We need a shower," you said, your voice thick and your smile wide.

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Wine, Peg's father used to say, is a double-edged sword. As a child, she'd puzzled over how anything liquid could be simultaneously solid and with a sharp edge no less, but now she knew better. The lowering of inhibitions, the loosening of tongues, the enhancement of whatever mood you happened to be in -- these were the actions of wine, for good or for ill. Inhibitions kept you from doing or saying the things you might regret, but they could also stand in the way of trying something new and exciting.

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Standing in line at the meat counter of the little family owned market, I couldn't keep my eyes off the attractive young woman waiting ahead of me. She was wearing Capri pants that perfectly displayed her fine young form. Over the years I had met far more interesting women in food markets, fabric stores and garden centers than in bars. "Have you shopped here before?" Not terribly original, but it was a start.

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"If this does not solve your issue Patrick. I swear to God I am going to fire you as soon as you get back." "Yes, sir." Patrick muttered as he hung up the phone. Patrick was sitting in some therapist's waiting room. He looked around at the cream-colored walls as he debated reading Newsweek. He decided against it and his mind wandered.

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PRELUDE Carol Simpson was on a short flight from Detroit Metro Airport to Chicago's O'Hare airport. She was going to spend a four day weekend with a guy she had met months ago in the Detroit suburbs. They met at a bar and hit it off and since then they had sex every time that Walt was in town. He had often talked about having her come to Chicago and spend a weekend with him. Carol took Thursday and Monday as vacation days to make it a long weekend visit.

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She walked out of the bathroom to the middle of the empty room. It was a bedroom of sorts, but completely devoid of furniture. The carpet on the floor was thick and plush and a dark rich chocolate brown. The paleness of her skin contrasted nicely with the dark carpet. Almost the reverse silhouette.

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Ben laughed, finished off the wine in his glass, and then reached out for the bottle on the coffee table. Like a gentleman, he first tried to top off the ladies' glasses. Only a few drops trickled out. "Damn, empty," he said. "Hold on, I'll go fetch a new bottle." Ben left the room and went down to the cellar. Returning with a new bottle and the corkscrew, he paused for a moment at the entrance to the living room.

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