Your erotic stories

The first thing that you should know about me is that my name isn't really Betty. Even if you were one of the men that I'd... entertained on Thursday night, you probably couldn't pick me out of a police lineup. That's because I dress and act completely different during the day. I keep my hair pulled back and don't wear a lot of makeup and wear neat but plain clothing, like the successful businesswoman that I am.

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"OK, what the hell is that?" Eileen asked laughing. "That is our Play Chair," the saleswoman said with a smile, coming up behind them. "It tends to get a reaction from everyone that comes in here." 'Here' was an upscale 'erotic boutique' in Boston. Eileen and Tom were in town for a get-away weekend and decided a visit would provide a nice bit of spice to their romantic weekend. Neither had been to the store before and didn't quite know what to expect.

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"Hey, man, is it okay if I fuck yer wife?" I opened my eyes slowly and saw a fit young man with a turgid cock sticking out in front of him and an awkward smile on his face. From somewhere it registered that his name was Derrik. Hearing scuffling on the floor I focused still more and recognized my dirty blond wife being eaten out by a chubby black haired wench with a tattoo on her back.

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Martin sat in the dark of his bedroom and stared out the window into the night. His modest home where he and his wife June had raised their 3 children was quiet now. He could hear June breathing softly in her sleep. The dog rustled and snorted in his sleep but Martin was still awake. He was nearing retirement and the accounting of his retirement capital wasn't looking too good. Though he had worked consistently and hard through his 40+ years of employment, the money just did not seem to stick to his savings account.

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Julie had just turned eighteen. She was over six feet tall with short, black hair. She had big, brown eyes and perfect, chiseled features. She had beautiful, 36 C-sized breasts and an athletic body with long, brown legs. She was beautiful and she knew it, but she hated the attention her beauty drew. She always wore boyish, baggy jeans with a T-shirt, and she usually covered her short haircut with a baseball cap.

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Carrie ran around the house making last minute preparations for their guests. Tim had invited friends from work for drinks and she was a nervous wreck. She had put together a few snacks quickly and gotten out her best glasses. Tim had asked her to wear her short black dress with the small silver flowers through it. She was a little uncomfortable in it, it was shorter than her usual clothes, and really could pass for a nightie without the blazer.

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For the past couple of years, I've been singing and playing music in a Celtic band, a five member acoustic ensemble specializing in the traditional music of Scotland, Ireland and England. My husband Kevin and I are Pagans, followers of the ancient fertility religion of the Celts. Kevin's been an enthusiastic supporter of my work with the band, seeing how much the music and good fellowship recharges me, and the money helps out, too.

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Annie loved Craigslist. She could find anything there. A few days ago she found what she wanted – someone willing to gather up a group of men and set up a gangbang. She'd been feeling the itch for something wild and this would be wild indeed. She set the limits quite clearly. She wanted to pull a train. No oral, no anal. The guys would all get their chance to fuck her pussy but could cum anywhere on her body.

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The kayak bobbed up and down on the lake as Rhonda adjusted her life jacket, "I don't know why I have to wear this, I'm pretty buoyant." "Yea, I'd say you have a set of PF double D's" Lynn replied with a laugh. Watching her friend struggle to get her large breasts tucked into the life vest was almost comical. It was a problem she did not have.

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Like David Copperfield, I want to start at the beginning, as "I was born ....". So you'll understand how I came to be the person that I, Sonia Barron, nee Sonia de Beaumanoir, am now. In the beginning, I was born on the beautiful island of St. Martin in the eastern Caribbean. My father's parents immigrated before WWII from France and my father was born there as well.

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