Your erotic stories

"Oh God Janey, you know how I hate the blind date thing," I groaned into the phone as my best friend tried to convince me yet again to double date with her and her boyfriend Chris. "But Maia, it wouldn't really be a date. His friend Andrew is coming in from the east coast and he promised to show him around L.A., take him out and get him drunk, you know, typical guy stuff.

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Introduction: My wife and I are what I would refer to as "soft core" swingers. We do not belong to any swinging group we just prefer just to meet singles or couples, get to know them and then see what occurs. We do not think that belonging to a swinging club is bad, it is just not our thing. We like to be a little more secretive and stay to ourselves when we play.

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We had been invited to a cocktail party at the Croydon Park Hotel in south London as the guests of one of my husband's clients who were celebrating his fortieth birthday. I wore the favoured 'little black dress' for the occasion, a black velvet cocktail dress, very figure hugging and sexy, but sophisticated enough for a semi-formal party. It was open backed and held on with a thin satin lace, criss-crossing all the way up from my lower spine, at the front it was also cut low but under-wired, enhancing my breasts and giving me an impressive cleavage.

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“Linda, I have a surprise for you. Remember you asked me if I’d like to see you with another woman?” Linda and I are colleagues and were in England for a new product launch. We are also lovers, still exploring each other and ourselves, having only been together 3 times, the 1,000 miles between our homes putting a bit of a limit on the time we could spend together.

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The Temple was the final stop on our daylong bus tour of Tokyo, and though we'd very much enjoyed the sights, my wife, Amber, and I were quite spent by the time we piled from our bus with the thirty-six other tourists into the crowded temple courtyard. It seemed to us that anything sacred or religious about the place had been lost in crass commercialism.

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PRELUDE The four divorced women were gathered at Joan's house for an afternoon of Bridge. It had become a ritual that each Wednesday they would play cards in the morning, have lunch and then enjoy sex with each other. Each week they rotated the location so that each woman had an opportunity to host the group.

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A muttered curse bounced off the interior walls of the SUV. Gail Steelport took a deep breath, hit the steering wheel of her 2000 Suburban, and let another vile explanative fall from her usually smiling lips. The gauge didn't lie, and neither did the sound of an engine trying to turn over, but failing to do so. Gail looked around; her headlights aided her in determining that she had pulled off to the side of the road, far enough that no one -- who was paying attention -- would run into her. Rain pelted the window, as Gail dug through her purse.

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I imagine a fantasy. A fantasy that we have spoken briefly to eachother about. One I have not yet experienced. It involves you, me, and a female friend. A female friend who is so far is faceless and nameless… We have just finished dinner and have begun talking. A movie is in the background, but no one is watching, or cares.

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Ashley felt the warm body against her back as the light streamed through the curtains. She pressed back, snuggling up against her lover, pressing her ass against the firm body. She moaned softly as an arm slid over her side, slipping between her breasts, supporting her large top breast, while cupping the lower one, her body still tingling from the night before. What began as a simple dinner and then renting a movie led to a passionate night of lovemaking and raw sex.

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I love summer time. Especially the clothes. Naomi was wearing those short shorts over her bikini. You know the type, the ones that would show off the color of her panties if she went for the full-bottom briefs. She even decided to forgo a shirt over her top. I'd pulled on a muscle shirt with my suit and we were off for a day at the beach.

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