Your erotic stories

Chapter One – Amanda receives a birthday present Amanda had just turned 19 years old when she was called down to the Headmaster's office at the prestigious Prestwick Academy. Prestwick was an all-girl's school with an excellent academic reputation. What could the headmaster possibly want with her today Amanda wondered as she made her way to the office?

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I met Amanda and Brooke at Ignacio and Rachael's beach house during one of their big, swanky parties. It started when I was talking to Ann over by the big salt water fish tank; the one with the octopus. We were talking about the hosts' odd relationship when she nudged me and nodded her head in the direction of the ocean. "Hey Craig, there're two hotties checking you out," she said around her cigarette.

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I hate it when my wife goes out of town. I am left to my own devices and do not do well under those circumstances. God knows I am too old to hang out at clubs and I am not a neighborhood bar kind of guy She tries to take the pressure off by getting some of her friends to invite me over for dinner, but if she is gone during the week I usually decline. I can find enough work and a good book to get me through the evenings.

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It was a trip that I had dreaded. Both Christopher and Isabella were well known prima donnas within the firm, cutthroat, overly competitive, and each had some sort of chip on their shoulder for one another. For the firm, closing the deal with this client meant record-breaking revenue, and the CEO wanted the best people to ensure everything went as planned.

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I felt a moment of uncertainty about the experience I was about to let myself in for, but the sight of Carl removing his jeans to reveal a gloriously hard cock protruding through the slit of his boxers swept away my twinge of insecurity. Well, stricly speaking I wasn't about to let myself in for it; that moment had come twenty minutes ago, in the club, when I agreed to his crazy suggestion.

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Today was the day Trish and I were going to get our loan check to start our business; both of us had been looking forward to it all weekend. We couldn't wait to get to the bank and give our own special thank you to the loan officer that approved us the previous Friday after we'd...well, shown him our own version of `collateral.'

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The deadline was next week. Alex needed a reasonably good first draft into the committee by then or his tenure would definitely be in jeopardy. His academic career depended upon pulling this off and he wasn't sure it was possible. The scholarly work is solid. I'm sure of that, he thought. What is missing is proof that the ancient cults have relevance in today's psyche. Furthermore, I am the last person on earth capable of following through on the practical research. Why do I think I can find it here?

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So there I was again, hanging out in my favourite pub on a busy Saturday night, talking to my buddy Zack, half-focused on him, half-focused on finding a good-looking guy to take home and fuck into oblivion. Yeah, I knew Zack wanted me, and the truth is that I wanted him, too, but neither one of us had ever acted on it. My rationale was: why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because a wet spot formed on my thong whenever I was around him?

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I'm so excited to see them. I'm squirming in my seat. It's been so long since I've tasted either of them and I'm licking my lips with anticipation. I remember her soft body against mine and his hard length inside of me. God I need that again. I need to feel both of them against me, on either side of me. I drive off the bridge, trying not to speed knowing I'm so close to there place. I'm shaking in my seat, and I have butterflies in my stomach. What will we say? How will we start? God I can't wait.

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My wife Sara and I were out celebrating our third anniversary. She was 34 at the time and I 37. We had no set plans and decided to begin with dinner at a nice restaurant. We finished both our dinner and the pitcher of margaritas we ordered. Upon leaving decided that neither of us should be driving. Instead we decided to walk around the city.

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