Your erotic stories

I've written this story at the request of a fan. It is purely fiction. I want to give a prologue that quickly explains my attitude to the issues it raises. Certain things happen in this story that I would not want to happen in real life. In real life I believe in equality and consent. I have moral values. However, my mind is a safe playground for any fantasy I choose. If fantasies remain fantasies and do not become obsessions, they are safe. They are also exciting. Enough of that, you're here for my story.

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Part 1 It was a cold and dreary day in south Texas. Well, ok...not cold. But chilly for south Texas. Mid-50's and overcast skies made it feel pretty cool, at least when you were just sitting around the house playing on the computer. Too drizzly to go out and do anything. Jannie shivered again and wished that her husband, Bobby didn’t have to work today. It was Saturday and she was bored.

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CHAPTER ONE Giggles surrounded me as I slung an arm around a cute brunette, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It was almost like a dream, being surrounded by such beautiful women, tending to my every need. As I leaned down to tuck a hibiscus behind her ear, some annoying insect buzzed around my face. I tried to swat it away, but to no avail.

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Chapter One: My best friend's mother. "I swear Robbie, if you tell anybody about what I'm going to show you, I'll fucking kill you," Ted warned me, and judging my the veins bulging in his neck and the crimson color of his face, he probably meant it. The madman look was something that Ted had inherited from his father, a hothead who had abandoned ship many years ago, leaving Ted and his mother to fend for themselves while he went to make other people's lives miserable, I assumed.

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There I was, a 35 year old 'Mrs. Robinson' sitting amidst a table full of young 20-somethings. They were all men, except for the friend who had invited me, Tabitha. We had been invited to join their table at Ernie's Pub. So, far off into the corner we trotted with our drinks. The conversations were plentiful though uninteresting. At one end of the table, a couple of guys discussed calling their 'girls' and heading home for the night.

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I can't believe I'm the only guy who loves his wife, fancies his wife and desires his wife so much, he wants someone else to fuck her. Some guys might understand what I'm saying and others might think I'm making excuses for the fact that I can't possibly love her if I have thoughts such as these. The thoughts would have remained fantasies as my wife, Ellie, would never have entertained the thought of going with another man.

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I'm on my knee's facing the head of the bed, my hand's are cuffed to the headboard. My body naked, thigh's spread so that all that I submit to you is open to your possession. I can't see you, but I can feel your eyes moving over every inch of my exposed body. I can feel my cunt moistening with anticipation of your touch; I'm finding it hard to keep still for your inspection.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: My sincerest thanks to everyone who offered feedback on part 1 of this story. I've tried to incorporate your suggestions as best as possible. This may still be slower than some of you would prefer, but I kinda like where it's going. I hope the rest of you do, too. Let me know either way. For those of you interested in just the sex, skip down about 1/3 of the way. For those of you that are U2 fans, get your playlists ready.

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I was so annoyed when it started snowing in the morning. I was working at home since my office had closed, and Friday's noon BJJ class at the gym was canceled. At least the mats would be fresh since they usually clean them well after Thursday's night class. The snow turned to sleet as the sun set, and normally I wouldn't consider driving in that weather.

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There was nothing like a crisp autumn day to clear out the cobwebs. Quite literally in fact, since the rays of sunshine cutting through the window highlighted any and all lint or spider webs in corners missed in last week's once-over. One could almost let them pass, but the beautiful foliage created such contrast to any dusty disorder it was impossible to leave them be. Humming to herself, Sam bustled around the apartment wiping and spritzing. Clad only in simple yellow panties and a white cotton t-shirt she welcomed the late morning warmth created by the sun's penetration into her side-street building.

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