Your erotic stories

It was about 11 o'clock on a Saturday night. I'm usually out by this time -- I've got a game with several people on most Saturdays – but this week most of them had other things to do, so I'm in for the night. I'd just gotten out of the shower when I heard someone open the front door and start sneaking in. I don't even have a towel with me; I'm embarrassed to say I was planning on picking one up from the floor in the living room. My wife being out of town had made me a bit sloppy.

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Brooke was home from summer vacation and already had way too much time on her hands as it was, but this summer was different she was home from her sophomore year of college and she was undecidedly single. Brooke was short, and thin. She had large breast, and a nice round ass. At 19, her dark skin, and long hair made her a vixen that she was proud of being. She walked around with very little to cover her voluptuous body, but that didn't matter she loved being looked at. She loved the thought of people getting turned on by looking at her.

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She was a computer geek. Imagine, one of those girls with long, beautiful hair pulled back at the base of her neck, wire-rimmed glasses hiding shimmering green eyes, and long legs that were always masked by dull gray slacks, day in and day out. I watched her, from a distance, silently undressing her with my eyes. I just bet she was a virgin, too.

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I am nervous as I walk up the stairwell. The sound of my shoes scuffing each stair reflects off the dingy once-white walls of the narrow hallway like an insistent warning, telling me to turn around and walk away with every step. Yet I continue, pursuing my chosen course with the same timid determination that has carried me through this day. Ever since I came out to my car and found the note tucked underneath my wiper blade.

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I never meant for any of this to happen. I have been married for five years and have never even come close to cheating on my husband. None of this is my fault and the only reason I'm telling you any of this is that I need to tell someone, need to get it out of my system. I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent woman, I'm certainly no babe in the woods but I can't deal with this. If writing about this helps me come to terms with it then, so be it.

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Andrea and Mitch were enjoying their first real vacation since their honeymoon. It was late afternoon when they began to walk back from the beach, hand in hand. Mitch had a knapsack slung over one bare, sunburnt shoulder. He would blame married life and his desk-job for his complexion and physique before taking personal responsibility. He wasn't terribly out of shape, just a little thicker and a loss of the definition he'd had in college.

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She was bound before him in the most alluringly submissive position, a remarkably stunning vision as she lay on her back, her arms stretched high and held firmly captive by cold, metal manacles that were attached to the headboard while her long legs were spread to an almost painfully wide degree…shackles connected to a bar that hung low from the ceiling lifted her firm bottom several inches off the bed, leaving her most intimate areas exposed to his heated scrutiny as he loomed above her, clearly comfortable with his dominate role as he savored seeing her so wonderfully vulnerable and defenseless;

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Billie was tiny, less than 5' tall, maybe 4'10" , weighed maybe 100 lbs., and cute as she could be. She was wearing a short-skirt skating outfit like ice skaters wear, but it was a roller-rink. Jay, John and I had been watching her and her boyfriend from High School (they'd enrolled at the Baptist College in town together) whirl around the floor, her like the little acrobat she was, him stumbling along with her. He was almost as clumsy as she was adept.

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She is at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes from lunch, lost in the reverie of thought, she barely hears the squeak of the front door as it opens and closes in the front room. She feels a soft breath at her back of her neck, next a nibble and a kiss. Attempting to turn around to kiss her husband hello, she is stopped and a blindfold covers her eyes.

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I am what you would call a shy, loner. I've pretty much always been that way. My favorite place has always been curled up on the couch alone with a book. I'm not the girl with the snappy comeback or witty or flirtatious reply. I'm the one that blushes, stammers and looks away while turning bright red. Rather than always looking like a blubbering moron when someone talked to me I adopted a quite, rebellious persona as a teen but have always had moments where I fantasize about being the crazy, outgoing girl dancing in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

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