Your erotic stories

It was her again! She wasn't the only girl in college with long black hair, and there were probably other girls who were taller and slimmer, so perhaps I could have been mistaken. But there was one characteristic that singled her out from all the other girls - she always wore a catsuit!

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You have to understand this: despite my lover's sexuality and beauty, she tends to hide her light under a bushel in public. She rarely wants her physical appearance to be the center of attention. It's a long story as to why this is so, and perhaps that's a story for another time. Suffice it to say that she reminds me of a line from the movie, Moulin Rouge:

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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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Sunlight in my eyes, burning through the eyelids, hot on the rest of my body, bad case of cotton-mouth, and an overwhelming need to take that nice long first leak of the day. Not the best way to wake up in the world, but not bad by any means. Last night came back slowly, and I recalled I was on the deck where I had curled up with a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream as the party wound down.

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My wife of 40 years has always been reserved when it comes to non traditional sex. That's never stopped me from hoping though. About a year ago, she switched jobs to a project manager for a software firm here in Colorado. She really liked the work as well as the people she worked with. Her boss was a good guy about her age and they hit it off early.

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The headline act was about to take the stage but I couldn't wait; I was desperate for a pee and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I was in serious danger of wetting myself. I made my excuses to my friends and hobbled across the crowded field towards the portaloos, thrusting my hands between my legs to prevent an accident.

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The next day, Sam sat at his desk trying to work, but every time he shifted in his chair the feel of the silky red panties caressing him drew his mind toward other activities. He hadn't seen Melinda this morning yet. Maybe she wasn't here today, he thought with a shock. He almost groaned aloud. God, he hoped she was here. Sam continued working for another hour before closing up his files and folders to go to a meeting. He couldn't even remember what it was supposed to be about. "Oh geez!" He did however remember that the meeting was to be held in conference room B.

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It was the summer after my senior year in high school, just three months of killing time until the start of college. I had just turned 18, and I had been single for the entire previous schoolyear. Small town, small school, and small dating pool made for an incredibly dull senior year. My girlfriend for the first three years of high school, the girl I lost my virginity to (the only girl I'd ever slept with) was a year older than me and had gone off to college.

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There were silky red thongs, lacy black bikinis, pearl white strings and soft blue french cuts. There couldn't be a more beautiful collection of lacy panties and bras anywhere. I had just returned to my apartment building from getting my morning coffee and was going upstairs, when my pretty neighbor from across the hall passed me with her laundry. Being the polite guy that I am, I smiled and said "good morning" and she replied "hi" back. As we passed I peeked around my shoulder and got a glimpse of the treasures in her basket.

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The two travellers struggled to get through the swinging glass door entrance to the hotel. Ingrid, the maitre d', hissed for the young porter who was usually to be found lounging at the back of reception. But he was nowhere in sight and now the men and their bulky luggage were through the entrance and walking grim-faced towards the front desk. In an attempt to deflect any initial dissatisfaction, Ingrid put on her friendliest smile and, even though it was almost the end of a very long shift, greeted them with energetic efficiency.

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