Your erotic stories

I thought about it all day long. It was as if there was nothing else I had to think about. It can be funny how anticipating something so daring and deviant can consume your time. I finally had called Bill, and told him what my boyfriend Rod had been dreaming of. Bill, my gay pal, was into it. He agreed to come over and let my boyfriend find what it was like to suck a cock.

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- 1 - My husband Dan is an engineer—and, I strongly suspect, a sex addict. Until recently, these were separate parts of his life. Not that I'm complaining, too much, about Dan's strong libido. He's always been faithful. And he's also a willing student—and budding master—of my body. I may want sex less frequently than he, but I probably get more enjoyment from it than I deserve for my own efforts. Besides, Dan's curiosity and drive definitely keeps things interesting in our bedroom—and sometimes outside of it too!

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Kendra pulled the note out of her pocket and read it again. Kendra, I'm sorry that I've hurt you. What we had was great. But, we both know that it's time to move on. I hope that someday you can look back on this and not hate me.

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Thomas Powell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping his wife Lorraine would not notice his restlessness. No matter how hard he tried to avert his gaze, his eyes were continually drawn to the image in the backyard. But it was not the slight tilt of his head that was required to capture the desired sightline that was the cause of his stirring - it was the effect that the vision before him was having on him.

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The ad read, "Urban domina, 40-something, tall, large breasted, and still menstruating, seeks slave to service lovely feet, legs, ass,....etc. Must have experience and great tongue. No inhibitions, please. Only those willing to serve need call. The curious will be ignored.". And it gave the number to call. A pissy woman answered, and asked how old I was, and WHERE I got the number. Very politely, I explained that I was twenty-two, a graduate student new to the city, and found the number in the local left-wing newspaper. She gave a dismissive chuckle, and asked what I was studying.

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The sobbing was barely audible over the background of the store's announcements about their various specials, the steady rumble of buggies passing, and various conversations of customers going about their business. I was just there to pick up a couple of things for a late night snack to keep me going at the office.

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The year was 1921. Flappers were fashionable, but I was not. I was a lowly farm girl who had just pricked her finger on a needle whilst trying to mend a skirt that she wore to church. We only had a few sets of clothes in those days, you know, and I had ripped my skirt on a thornbush walking home after Sunday service. So I had to mend it.

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I had made friends with Stacy and Greg at the gym I go to. Stacy caught my eye the very first time I saw her. She had a vibrant, mischievous energy about her. And her body was spectacular. She stood 5' 8" and was beautifully curvy. Strong and sexy she had 37" hips a 29" waist and a stunning, bouncy pair of natural 38 DD breasts that got my cock hard just looking at them.

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It had been six years since we had graduated from college, and for the first time since graduation, all three of us were together again. From the enthusiastic hugs at the airport and then the conversation and laughter during the dinner we shared at a local restaurant on the way to my home, it was clear that while plenty of time had passed and we had kept in contact, the comfort and attraction between the three of us when all together in the same physical location was still undeniable.

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Megan was about to begin her Freshman year at a State University in the Upper Midwest. She chose this campus for a lot of reasons. It was located on a big, beautiful lake. Megan loved to canoe and here she could canoe every afternoon, if she wished. The psychology department was said to be outstanding and Megan intended to be a psych major.

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