Your erotic stories

By the time the stripper arrived to the Bachelor party, we were all pretty drunk. It was a small party, really. There were eight of us to begin with, but Steve had an early flight the next morning and so had left by ten. Then Sean, the groom-to-be of all people, got too drunk too soon and passed out on the sofa not long after that.

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The flight had arrived on time, but the luggage was taking ages to arrive. It was already midnight, and I was feeling tired after spending full day at work and then flying to Cyprus. I was just waiting to get to the guesthouse and get in a good night's sleep. Watching the other passengers I could tell this was what other people were thinking as well. Soft bed and hopefully a nice and peaceful hotel. No parties for me tonight!

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"Mmmph.", I moaned, my mouth completely filled with the hard, throbbing member as I sucked it, my tongue working along the underside with horny zeal on it's way towards the tip. My head moved rhythmically back and forth as the head of his cock grazed my tonsils, then back out to the tip until my mouth was flooded with his thick, delicious cum.

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My husband and I had decided to take a long weekend in Kansas City. Why Kansas City? He had some business there and we figured, why not let the company pay for some of the trip, and besides we'd never been there before. We did some research on the Internet and selected a quaint hotel in one of the many "neighborhood" areas that had been updated and brought back to life.

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I'm in your living room with another couple. He's broad and muscular, she is blonde and petite. They're both aged about 21, and you have no idea why I've brought them here -- but you have promised to do exactly as you are asked, without question. I've asked you to get changed upstairs, and come back into the living room when you're ready. You come into the room wearing a short summer dress, with only white socks on your feet.

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It started with a simple question. "What does swinging mean?" I asked. I sat at my computer on a Saturday morning wearing sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt. My husband, Bill, was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. "What?" he asked, a surprised set of eyebrows poked over the top of the folded black and white page.

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We'd only lived in the neighbourhood a few weeks, so when I first saw him mowing the lawn as I pulled into the driveway, I thought it might have been my own mistake. But no, I checked the house number, and I saw my wife's car in the other parking spot, so I knew I was in the right place. I shrugged and got out of the car. I reached back in for my briefcase, and then watched the young man mowing our lawn as I walked to the front door.

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I had been working at the store for a couple of months now. While I liked what I was doing – selling wine – overall I felt a bit disappointed. This was not where I saw myself as I turned another birthday. It's hard chasing your dreams, and it's hard when you have to take a job you don't really care for just for the money. But such is life sometimes.

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"May I join you?" I looked up from my book, slightly surprised. I had come to the coffee shop-slash-bookstore during my lunch hour for a brief respite from the stress of the office, and I hadn't anticipated being interrupted. Glancing around, I saw that there were plenty of empty seats around.

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"You should grow that moustache again Burt," Bush said to his friend, his voice full of friendly sarcasm, "They make a nice flavor saver when licking cooze." "You would know Bush," Burt joined in with his friend's banter. Burt smiled as he drove their pick up truck, his mind reminiscing to the origin of his nickname. On a fishing trip once, he skipped shaving for a whole week.

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