Your erotic stories

I had just started working for a small little publishing firm. Being a part-time writer myself, it was enjoyable work reading other writers manuscripts, all hopeful of getting their works printed in book form. It was a relatively small office too, something else that I quite liked as it was a fairly laid back and comfortable atmosphere. My job was basically to read the manuscripts, critique them and then pass on my recommendations to Larry Somers my boss, or on to his wife Christine who partnered the business with him.

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Rene and I were sitting at a sidewalk table in a small town near our home in Southwest Ohio drinking a flavored water when she approached us and introduced herself. She was typical of this town, a place inhabited mostly by aging hippies of the artistic type. We come here often to browse its many art and cultural shops and just for fun to count how many people were wearing Birkenstocks. She introduced herself as Kabbie, a nickname given by a college professor that just stuck.

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I have invited a few friends over to share an evening with us. It’s supposed to be a surprise for your birthday, but it’s difficult to keep a smile from revealing all. You’ve asked me about my suspicious behavior and I make a vague reply. I don’t want to spoil the moment. You’re wearing my gift to you, a sexy pair of black silk boxers, with turquoise piping. The matching robe was whisked off as soon as you had modeled it for me.

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"You sure that's okay, Joe? You don't mind?" I thought to myself for a minute. What the hell was there to mind? My business partner, Frank was simply asking me to look after his daughter for a few weeks - well, asking me and my wife, Jenny - while she attempted to get over her latest disastrous affair. It seemed that Frank wanted to put a bit of distance between her and the low-life that she had been seeing, and my house out in the country seemed like the obvious choice.

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Beverly was crying. Her bosom heaved up and down as each sob wracked her body. "I've got to leave you, Gary. I can't live a lie anymore!" I cradled her in my arms, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks, her farm girl freckles magnified by each drop. We sat on the couch, in the third year of our marriage, as I tried to make sense out of what Bev was saying. This often was not easy, as she was no rocket scientist. But Bev's simple, kind nature more than made up for her lack of mental prowess. She loved me truly.

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The ad read, "Wanted! An uninhibited male to help satisfy my wife." I had read the ad with some skepticism. But answer it I did. The next three weeks were filled with e-mail notes back and forth. They were a middle aged Black couple. She had the hots for more than he could give her. She was into almost anything; he was more straight-laced and conservative. When they finally sent the pictures, I was floored. She was knockout, drag down gorgeous. He was just your average run of the mill Joe. That settled it, I was going to get a piece of that.

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Cori strode naked through the club and took her seat at the bar. Picking up her glass, she looked at her husband with a smile. "Lost again?"He asked. "Depends on how you look at it,"she replied after a sip of her drink. "I'm naked, but his cock is hard enough to use as a pool cue." Dan laughed as his wife shook her long blonde hair from her shoulder. "You always lose your clothes. You never could shoot pool and you know it."

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My wife and I have been married for almost two decades and have been swinging for most of them. We used to get each other hot by reading Penthouse letters to each other. In our first home together, Stacey would often lay out with a friend while I was at work and they would also read these stories to each other. Fiction led to reality and we eventually had our first swinging experience with her girlfriend and another friend.

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Eyes full of sleep, Julie picked her watch up from the bedside table. It was just after 8. Familiar noises suggested Dan was already up as usual. She heard the muffled click of their door being pulled to and guessed he was heading off on his Saturday morning run with Craig and Brian. A tap shortly after on the next unit's door and Craig's quiet goodbye to his girlfriend confirmed she was right.

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Strev and Paul had been friends many years dating back to their school days. Strev was a nick name he'd inherited when he was a child by his school friends; it was shortened from Strevonovich, his given family name inherited from his European roots. Living close to each other, the two boys went through school together and remained friends after entering the workforce. At the age of nineteen, a restless Strev headed overseas and travelled through Europe for a few years before settling down at a Kibbutz in Israel for a while.

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