Your erotic stories

I was cursed. Not by the evil witch of the mountains or some wizard living in a cave somewhere. I was cursed by my own parents. I am their first child. They named me after my mother's favorite cousin. What they either didn't know or didn't care about was that he hated his name.

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They had agreed to one simple rule: no pain. Other than that, nothing was off-limits. Andrea and Billy had become friends at work. Over the last couple of months they realized that they had been secretly watching each other, admiring each other's bodies as much as they admired each other's character. They began to separately lust for each other. Eventually, they began to flirt, innocently enough at first, and then progressively less innocent.

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When I was in my early twenties and living in my own place my younger brother took it into his head to move in with me for a while. This had its pluses and its minuses. On the plus side he was good company and could help pay the rent and utilities. On the minus side he was a bit of a slob who took up my space. I liked being on my own.

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We hoped it was true. We desperately wanted it to be true. Everyone said that Sarah became unbelievably suggestible and willing to do anything when she'd being smoking pot. This was a party in Alaska. There was a lot of pot going around, we'd seen Sarah take more than one hit. So hoped what they said was true.

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Virginia was the boss's wife, and an outstanding lady in two ways. Her bosom and her bottom. Both were great assets. Although far from fat, she was inclined to plumpness, being a cheerful, energetic woman, full of life and fun. At least, that is, when she and her husband were with friends and colleagues, which was almost every evening since they did a great deal of entertaining.

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(This story is a joint effort. Kat and Liz are real and do live in a place where they do not feel free to openly display their love. The initial bathtub scene is all their doing and the rest of this tale is the product of our three imaginations. I hope they allow me to write about their honeymoon. Stay posted for more.)

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When I got out of the Army, I went out on a high, so to speak. As a member of a Special Forces team, I enjoyed not only the duty itself--always in the thick of it, behind enemy lines, flying to this hot spot or that revolution--but I was proud of myself. I did my duty, served my country, maybe saved a few lives (by taking out a few terrorists). 

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It was the night before Christmas eve, the night of the office Christmas "do" - my least favourite night of the year. It was already dark at around three thirty when I finally managed to slip away from the manufactured merriment in the stuffy and overcrowded Board room. I donned my coat, stealthily dashed up the stairs and headed for my usual 1st floor hideaway.

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Sometimes I get the urge to drive. I have a small SUV and I like it. I bought it for practical reasons but I have discovered that I like the way it drives. This story is about a favorite weekend drive I took this year. I woke up Saturday morning with the urge to drive. Gas had gone all the way down from $3.12 to $2.65 and I had filled up on Friday evening.

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I like gardening. It's a relaxing hobby and I happen to have the knack of making plants grow. Give my brother and me two identical plants and what happens? He carefully plants his one, adds the right fertilizer, tends it carefully, watches over it like a mother with her baby, right up to the time it dies on him. Me, I slap my plant down into the soil and jump back to give it room to grow. A natural talent and a green thumb, I assure my brother. Pure arsed luck, he tells me.

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