Your erotic stories

My wife is 52 years old and slim. She has a nice figure for her age and still loves sex. She does most things I want – oral sex on demand and she takes it in the mouth and swallows. However one thing I have not been able to do is to have sex with another guy while I watch. I know she would love to be fucked by a young, fit guy but she has some moral hang-ups to do with marriage I guess.

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I love to flirt. I love the attention of men. When we were young, my husband hated when I drew the attention of other males. Secure in our relationship after all these years, he has actually come to enjoy it. We have our steamiest sex when the topic of an added male is introduced. For the most part my flirting has been just harmless fun.

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I’ve been married to you for about two years. You are my dream man. I came to you a virgin, you showed me the ways of love. Sadly though our life together has been reduced to quick snatches of time spent together at dinner and in bed. Sometimes we’re both too tired to make love. I hate that. I want to be close to you, closer than your skin.

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They had been working in the same office for some time now. He had always lusted after her lithe young form in stolen moments. He, the studious young employee, trying to get ahead, trying to always do the right thing. Trying to get her attention, trying to get her affections. But she would have nothing to do with him. She was more concerned about her life, her lovers, and, quite frankly, herself.

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Liam knew he owned the school. He was the best football player this small local college had seen in years and there was even talk of him trying to go pro. He had his pick of all the girls on campus; life was good. Except for one little problem. His US History professor was tough. He didn't even help the athletes out. In the tiny town in the south, most of the athletes were white, so there was no talk of any racial discrimination by this professor, but he discriminated against guys who were young, talented, handsome and played sports.

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Julie ran from the party as fast as her long legs would carry her. Her first college party had been a total disaster and now she was probably the laughing stock of the school. * She had been sitting with some of her girlfriends from the dorm at the local coffee shop. It was supposed to be a study session, but all her friends wanted to talk about was their boyfriends or potential boyfriends. Since she didn't have either one, she was feeling left out.

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Let me tell you, Jack, I had one hell of a shitty day today, although it really started some time ago. I could tell there was something wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something amiss. For the last several months my wife, Lynn, seemed to be growing more distant toward me. Sex with her was almost to the point of nonexistent. In those rare times we did have sex, it was as though she couldn't wait 'till it was over. It was to the point that sex became unpleasant, damn near work.

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I'm in bed waiting for you while you brush your teeth, wash your face, all those little personal tasks at the very end of the day. I'm wearing a not-too-interesting light woven cotton shortie top and panties, lying on my back, drifting off to sleep. I know you're naked, it's a hot summer night and you never wear pajamas, anyway. I feel the bed shift when you sit down. "Don't do anything," you say. "Just turn your head away and pretend like I'm not here."

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The Gash was the worst beat in town, and being the cop working it meant that you had three options: get promoted and get reassigned, leave the force, or wait to die. Cops had a shorter lifespan in The Gash than a white-girl's virginity did in a rap concert. I had worked this beat once, before I took done a cop-killing drug-dealing Puerto Rican slut named La Zorra and made vice. There was no need for me to come back to this shitty-ass place, but I wanted to. The Gash was my connection to someone I cared about. Someone who needed my help.

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I sat at my desk today and chatted over messenger. This was pretty normal for me, reaching out to those far away. You were at work today but one of the windows open was a dialogue with you. After half a day of talking about sex, non-consensual sex, resistance play and bondage you had excused yourself for some fresh air. I giggled thinking about the hard bulge you must be trying to conceal in your slacks.

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