Your erotic stories

The soft patter of rain that began to pelt against the roof grabbed my attention, and I paused, setting my fiery-red lipstick back on the wooden vanity below me. "Shit." I muttered to myself, disgruntled. The weather forecast hadn't called for rain earlier in the morning, so I'd decided on a costume with more involved makeup. I'd planned on arriving at the annual Crowley Halloween ball dressed as a sexy version of Harley Quinn, my favorite character.

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I parked my car in the driveway, a big smile on my face. I took a moment to collect my things, making sure my present for her was perfect. It was simply wrapped, just some red wrapping paper around a little box, tied with a big red bow, but I knew she would like it; she always enjoyed my gifts.

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I'd been in the same building before but this was different. I had been called to do some actual work for the volunteer bureau but had also been severely warned by my wife, the co-ordinator, that this client may be difficult.

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Erica Cranston sits on the exam table across from Dr. David Madison in the room, nothing between them. The door is closed. Her knees part wavering nervously. He sits on a low stool, legs crossed, one hand holding his chin as he listens. She's used to the conversation now. This is not the first she has met with.

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Have you ever wondered what your own cum tasted like? If you're like me, you have. Since I was a young man, I've been fascinated by it and wonder how it tasted. I would jerk off and tell myself that I was going to taste it. I couldn't wait to try it. The problem was that as soon as I came, I changed my mind.

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It was 1959 and I was 19 years old. I had left London and had accepted a position as a junior clerk in a large company in the north of England. I found a small, cheap bed-and-breakfast hotel run by Mrs. Johnson, a friendly motherly type, who made me feel instantly at home. I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks until I found a flat to rent. It was Friday and my first night in the city.

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"Reception to Tom, over." The radio on his belt squawked softly, and his friend Gina's voice beckoned to him from his reverie. "This is Tom. Go ahead, Gina, over." "Tom, I have a guest request for an unusual repair, over." "What do I need to bring up, Gina? Over." "I don't really know, Tom. Can you come to the front, please? Over." That was unusual for Gina; she's a great communicator, so it must have been something "Personal" that the guest needed.

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The great walled port city of Sirtus sat on the edge of the Mycean Sea. A many thousand ships hove into its port each day, and a great deal as many departed in the same. No market square was empty, and few pockets hung limp in the trousers of their owners. Trade boomed, honor ruled, and hearts loved. But Paolo the merchant had, as of late, found himself distant from his wife Francesca. To be sure, she was pleasing to look upon. But the women of Sirtus were in no short supply, and all of them seemed so much fairer than his own.

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This story all took place on what was a very sad week for me. Joanne had been a good friend of mine for years, we had never been together as a couple, we had kissed and fooled around a bit in various different situations but we had never gone as far as to call ourselves a couple (much to my disappointment).

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An adventure with pegging and peeing, set in the great outdoors of the Olympic National Rainforest. Since people seemed to enjoy hearing about how I lost my anal cherry to my wife's strap on, I thought you might like hearing about another experience we shared and how that wonderful toy of hers found it's way up my butt again.

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