Your erotic stories

Shrugging it off as a mood swing, May went up to her room and threw on a sundress, one of the only things she could wear without a bra and get away with it. "Maya! Dinner's ready!" she heard her mother call. "Coming!" she replied, making her way downstairs.

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I felt warm, relaxed, and incredibly self-satisfied sitting in the hot tub, completely content to watch my beautiful bride's breasts swimming in the turbulent blue-lighted water. Sitting next to her was the fascinating twenty-four-year-old creature who had recently become a part of our lives. The words my wife had just articulated hung in the air for a moment and snapped me out of my blissful stupor.

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Life on The Sea Siren was not an easy one, to be a hard core fisherman on the Bering Sea you had to be tough and willing to work hard. October and January are the best times for fishing for king crab. Joel was the son of the captain of The Sea Siren, he had worked last season as a greenhorn, this season he was working as a full crewmen.

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It started out as a fantasy. I'd stumbled across a website that provided an in-depth and intriguing view on the psychology of cuckolding. Originally a 'cuckold' was a man with an unfaithful wife. It was a scornful epithet back in the day. But more recently, it's evolved into a fetish - a fetish often practiced by intellectuals and those looking for more than just the physical parts of being in a relationship.

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The first thing I ever noticed about Lady B were her legs. They were gorgeous. Her upper body was hidden by the side of a wing-backed chair but stretching out over the side of the chair were her legs, endlessly long and clad in a pair of black seamed nylon stockings, the rounded white thighs above that wide band of dark double webbing bisected by black suspender straps. They were perfection - totally erotic, beautifully shaped, warm soft flesh which made you automatically lick your lips - in anticipation of licking her lips -- upper and lower, outer and inner.

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Rose sat at her dining room table, barely touching the breakfast in front of her. Her marriage was in trouble, and she had no idea why. It had been almost two months since her husband had touched her, and she thought he may be having an affair. It wasn't uncommon for men to seek the company of a younger woman, but at forty-six Rose still had the body of a twenty something. High breast, flat stomach, and an ass that still turned heads. Even this morning she tried to wake him by stroking him, and the only reaction was him rolling over. Even his goodbye when he left was chaste at best.

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Music pounded around her. The club was an exclusive one, and had only the best DJ's turning on any given night. The floor literally vibrated under her feet. She looked at the bouncer that let her in without issue, then at the writhing mass of bodies visible beyond the door. Swathed in light that shifted like water, the strobes gave an interesting effect to the already interesting décor of the club.

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It's always like this. He's gone for a few days or a week. When he comes back, he's so needy he can hardly wait. His cock leaps free of the encumbrances as soon as the zipper is down and the cloth parted. Hard and forceful, pushing out of the cotton embrace, pressing for her.

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This is a complete story, although there is a sequel possible if reader interest is there. *** To the rest of our family, Grandma Rose was - let's be charitable and use the word "eccentric". In the words of my mother, my father's mother was a "nuttier than a fruitcake" and often suggested that she be put in a rubber room somewhere.

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You're laying on your stomach at first. You can hear the footsteps of men enter the room; you're not sure how many there are. You can feel them approach silently, wordlessly. They walk around you. Their eyes are locked on your naked body, soaking in every curve, every crevice.

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