Your erotic stories

Charlotte's expression was in step with her hesitation as she smiled weakly at the receptionist. Was this woman passing judgment? Charlotte worried. After all, this man specialised in sexual problems, so of course the receptionist would know that. How much detail was the woman privy to?

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It was because I worked at home for a software company that I became friendly with the group of housewives who met every Wednesday afternoon. We all lived on the same street and I soon realized that these four women met at the house across from mine while their kids were at school and their husbands were at work. I saw them from my home office window, arriving at two o' clock every Wednesday.

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First off, let me say that rape is a heinous thing to inflict on anyone. Nobody in their right mind would suggest otherwise and I do consider myself to be in my right mind. When a friend became a victim of date rape I was as shocked, as supportive, as anyone but that was when we were in high school and I was much younger.

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I’ve been divorced from Nellie for about 5 years. She has custodial care of our kids, so I still see her often, every other Friday when I go to pick them up for the weekend. Last Friday, when I arrived at her house, nobody answered the door when I rang the bell. Sometimes, my daughters are in their rooms getting ready when I get there and don’t hear me at the door, so I used my key and went in.

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It started with a telephone call, a couple of weeks ago, one of my former girlfriends called Christine, inviting me to her birthday party. I had nothing else planned for the evening, and accepted the invitation. When I walked into the venue, an upstairs room at a local pub, Christine was leaning on the bar, ordering drinks. She was wearing a very short, mini skirt, her long shapely legs were parted, and her J. Lo like arse, was pushed back, Christine, was on the pull.

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Vic stood alone in the bedroom, staring at the reflection in the full-length mirror as though taking notes. Dark hair, cropped close. Dark eyes, both by nature and by the distant look of loss in them. Full Mediterranean lips in an olive face. Torso covered by a black t-shirt. The leather jacket that went with it was thrown over a chair. Hips and legs clad in tight faded jeans that covered the tops of lace-up boots.

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"So, you really want to know what's been happening since I got back in town? Well, it'll cost you a beer and I guarantee you'll need it!" I said it with a big smile on my face. Kim motioned to the bartender, "Ginger, two more Fosters, please." I'd been back in town for about three months and this was the first opportunity I'd had to get together with Kim.

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He was too handsome for his own good. I'd long since recognized that it might very well lead to the end of us. My sore whipping arm was longing for an overweight sub with the face of a pug. Good thing for Precious, the rest of me was not. Eyeing the furtive glances of the young girl, I immediately knew she wasn't his type. She was submissive, for one thing. It leaked from every pore of her overly exposed skin.

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Omar and Barry were my neighbors in DC before they moved to California 10 years back. They lived in my building complex and we hit it off immediately after meeting at a mutual friend's dinner party. Barry and I quickly connected over our love of team sports. At nearly 6ft, he was a big man but surprisingly agile on the field. He joined my soccer team.

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So it had happened. I had taken my sister with no forethought, standing in her kitchen, directly in front of her daughters hidden only with the island counter without the slightest fear. And after the girls finished their breakfast and got off to school, my sister had requested more. We fucked again, then we made love.

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