Your erotic stories

It wasn't so bad that Maria's boyfriend Tim had announced that he wanted to break up, she had sort of expected it. It wasn't even so bad that he had done it two days before her 25th birthday. The part that really made her upset was what he gave as the reason — that for the past year, he had just felt really unlucky about everything in his life, and he felt like making a change would fix that.

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Her husband Alex's car had barely pulled out of the driveway when Michelle Adams' phone rang. She had the day off work today; a substitute was teaching her classes as she had errands she desperately needed to run. She was going to meet Summer after and share a little lunch and maybe some fun. Alex didn't mind if she and Summer hit the sheets on occasion, he liked her auburn-haired girlfriend and their first threesome had been with Summer a few years back on their first anniversary.

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A week ago I received a phone call from an old boyfriend, Kevin, from way back when I was 22. We had gone together for a few years. It was during our relationship that I was seduced by an older woman and became bi-sexual. I eventually told him about my girl friend. He accepted it well, but eventually we drifted apart. He said he was in town for a few days with his wife, and would like to visit, "If that was OK."

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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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