Your erotic stories

I had worked with Anne for a couple of years and had socialized quite a bit with both she and her husband Patrick at the time. But having left that company, I hadn't seen her for quite a while. It was a very pleasant surprise then to see her as I entered the bar to pass away some time one Friday evening. On seeing me, she ordered me a glass of my favourite wine (great memory) and we began talking.

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"Got a light?" Melissa looked up as she was putting her lighter and cigarettes back into her small purse. Standing next to her at the bar was another young woman, maybe a couple years older than her own 22 years. The young woman was striking, with shoulder length, slightly curly red hair. Her face was nearly flawless, her lips full and pursed in a slight smile.

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It was Berkeley California in 1969 and a bunch of hippies and dopers had taken over a parcel of university-owned land on Telegraph avenue and proclaimed it a People’s Park. The Viet Nam war was at its height, and when the police showed up to oust the squatters and put up a chain-link fence, the anger and futility of the anti-war protesters, the hippies, and all the people in between ran up against the agents of the Establishment and full-scale riots broke out in the streets, with cops and National Guard on one side and hippies and students on the other.

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As soon as Bimbette walked out of the night and through the front door, she knew she had found the place she was looking for. It was a small, dark, run-down taproom, in a questionable part of town, population: nine, including the bartender - all male, mostly black with a few white guys.

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I have written previously about the time that Dave, my boss, seduced me while my husband was away on a business trip. That was the first time I had extra-marital sex. Despite the initial guilt feelings, the sex on that occasion had been so erotic and stimulating that I could not refuse further escapades with Dave. What made it even more exciting for me was that sex with my husband also got better – probably as I became less inhibited.

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Meg is a black woman that I have had the hots over for quite a while. She is a school teacher in her 30's. To say she has a body to die for is probably a rash understatement. About 5'8" tall, with a 22" waist, hips about 32" and roughly a 34C breast, she would fit the dream woman of many a man. Her lips are generous without being overly large ( I call them great).

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I entrust you with the only copy. I know that you will not mistake my purpose, but we know who will. I can call nothing in my house entirely my own. The words are wretched, of course, but perhaps they give some sense. Kneeling. He is naked before me. There are no faces in my dreams, as in my life; I have no memory for them. Only voices, and words.

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You were always there for me. And I for you. A week before my sweet sixteenth birthday I came to you crying because I was “Sweet Sixteen and never been kissed.” So, even though all of the exploring we had up until then had only been the hiking in the woods, or swimming in the creek, or at the most, in-depth verbal discussions of our passing childhood and maturing sexuality, you kissed me.

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My boyfriend and I had talked about doing a threesome for a while and finally found another guy. I had told the BF I wanted to try double-penetration and he seemed into it. Him and I had done anal together and we both liked it. So that night, once the two guys and I were naked, I used my talented mouth to get them both hard, having them stand on either side of me as I knelt between them.

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"Bingo, bingo, big money bingo! What's tonight?" "Bingo!" yelled the crowd of families and couples around the pool bar. "Oh Christ get me out of here!" muttered Julie from beneath her floppy sunhat. "I'm so bored!" "We picked the wrong hotel didn't we?" sighed her friend. "The hotel's gorgeous. It's the resort that's wrong." "Hmm...it looked closer to Ayia Napa in the brochure, didn't it?"

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