Your erotic stories

Elizabeth Walker felt the tension drain from her body as she settled into the wrought iron deck chair. She was on the patio at Sven’s, an upscale bistro overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Situated far enough away from Fisherman’s Wharf to escape the brunt of tourist traffic, the dining was upscale but still casual. She wasn’t really dressed for dining out, but she had just finished moving the last of her belongings into her new apartment and wanted to treat herself.

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As we walked down the hotel hallway, my wife nervously clutched my hand. I glanced over at her and could tell she was very apprehensive with what was about to take place. She looked exquisite in her short black dress trimmed in lace. She wore a strand of pearls around her neck that hung perfectly into her cleavage. I had picked her outfit when we had agreed to this little arrangement.

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Trembling with excitement, he fumbled with the stranger's zipper. He had waited so long for this, and he could barely contain his lust. The stranger had already stripped off his shirt, revealing a tanned and sculpted body rippling with powerful muscle. He felt his lust flare even more. The stranger's handsome face broke into a wicked grin. "See how bad you want my cock," he jeered. "Man, you're one hungry faggot..." he chuckled.

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It was early April when I returned to the house I had spent my entire life in, up until the previous September. I had gone to college on the other side of the country and had been incredibly homesick for the small town I grew up in, a place I had hated until I had to leave. I missed my friends, my neighbours, my parents especially, and I was incredibly excited to see everyone when I got back home. Unfortunately, I was the first of my friends to finish my final exams at school, so I was back in town two weeks before most of my friends would be back.

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I was at Steve's place having a beer and a chat; I heard the front door open, and the voices of Steve's wife Judy and daughter Becky came in. They had been out to measure up some things in a flat that Becky had bought. Both came in and I stood up to say hi, I receive the usual kiss on the cheek, and hug from Judy and then from Becky as well, as she said, jumping up and down, "Hi Bob, nice to see you, it's been a while, how you doin?"

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I dashed for the phone, hoping to answer it before the voicemail picked up. "Hello," I said, breathing hard. "Ken, it's Sam Clemens." No, not that Sam Clemens. Sam is Samantha Clemens. She and her husband Dave live about two miles from me on Huckleberry Hill Road. We have the only houses for miles, so we've become pretty good neighbors. Dave is a realtor in town. He has done very well financially selling commercial real estate, and it shows.

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The idea is that you get home from work, take off your shoes, grab a beer from the fridge, turn on the TV, sit down, and relax for half an hour. What you do not want is to come home from work, walk in the door and find all your furniture has been tossed about. Neither do you want to hear swearing and clattering and banging coming from further in the apartment, apparently in the kitchen.

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Viv and Harv Robinson's anniversary fell on a Sunday. To celebrate the quarter-century of their legally coupling in the eyes of the state and God, Viv had the bright idea of spicing up their perfunctory conjugal interlude that she knew Harv would engage in only as a token courtesy to her (or else face the silent deep freeze for the next six months).

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It was Thursday night and Michele was in one of those moods. She wanted, no she needed some erotic sexual activity. She didn’t really care what kind as long as it was with someone exciting and warm blooded. Not that she wasn’t choosy, she definitely was choosy. She was just use to getting what she wanted and when she wanted it and she wanted some tonight.

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Two friends play out a ritual during the summer of 1973. . Chapter One: Anticipation. The shower turned off, causing my heart to start beating even faster. The bathroom door was about 6 feet away from the bed where I was pretending to sleep, and I saw the shadows of movement break the light at the bottom of that door. On the other side of that door, my best friend Kenny was probably drying off, and as the steam came out from under the space at the bottom of the door I visualized what Kenny was doing.

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