Your erotic stories

The summer of 1976 was especially hot. It was late August and I was studying in the library at college but found it impossible to concentrate. Every time I looked out of the window I could see carefree people in the quad, laughing, enjoying life, making the most of the wonderful, warm weather. I felt left behind, stuck in this mausoleum reading but not taking anything in. I was feeling restless and thoughts of sexual activities were assaulting my brain.

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Una's stomach tingled. Jesus fucking Christ, why can't I ever say no and mean it? She knew the answer well enough. She loved men. She craved their smell, how their asses moved while they walked away from her, and most of all she absolutely slobbered thinking about their penises. She loved them all, big and small. She loved long, skinny ones, Short fat ones, bent ones and meaty lengthy ones, and even iddy-biddy-teeny ones. They all had what she considered too be personalities of their own. And she talked them, one and all.

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I first saw the ad on the internet. The website was a listing of Dominant Women on the West Coast. Since I live in Los Angeles, I was checking out the pictures and information on local dominants. The one that caught my attention was unique. Madame Darcy was based in Paris. Her ad stated that she traveled to Los Angeles frequently and had family here.

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I had just gotten out of the shower, blow-dried my hair and was lying on the bed lightly running a finger between my moistening pussy lips when the doorbell rang. I groaned in frustration. I wanted so bad to touch my pussy and cum. As usual, after trying to entice my husband the night before, I went to bed without a cock. For some months now, Jim hadn't touched me once, and I was sure it was because of another woman.

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I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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The name's Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective. It all began on a sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office. "Hey, Jack." she said in an annoying tone. "Jack, put the book down for a minute!"

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I got parts of this story from both sides and pieced all the details together. Other people at my firm are putting the pieces together also and now rumors are beginning to circle the office. I don't think we've heard the last of it... Susan is one of the more successful people in our department. She's also a royal bitch, but she gets away with it because she's so valuable to the company. She's in her mid-30's, I think.

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Jim Dugan walked from the courthouse to the first eating place he could find for a quick lunch. The divorce proceeding was postponed until after lunch because the judge had arrived so late that morning. He left the courtroom quickly so he would not have to face his soon to be ex-wife Janet. Both of them had recently turned 50 years old and were planning on an early retirement because their investments had really paid off.

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Carly Adams walked her two children to the end of the cul-de-sac to catch the school bus. Her two young daughters, aged 10 and 12, had the good fortune of inheriting their mother's striking good looks. Having recently turned 37, the slim and sexy soccer mom was constantly mistaken for a much younger woman. Very petite, barely topping 5 feet tall, her jet black hair was styled in a classic concaved bob cut, parted on the side, long side bangs flowing down to curl erotically just under her jaw line.

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It was at the village fete that I saw her. I had just emerged from the main tent, after judging the sponge cake competition -- a solemn duty for the parish vicar's wife -- and there she was, 20 yards away from me, paying for a go at the coconut shie. She looked even slimmer than I remembered her as a teenager. I thought at first that her short, spiky hair had turned prematurely grey;

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