Your erotic stories

Last night after my shower, I walked into the bedroom expecting to see my girlfriend curled up under the covers, which always gives me a feeling of contentment to end the day. However, instead of finding her half-asleep and ready to cuddle, I found her laying on the bed with the covers thrown back, wearing her black push up bra and some tiny little black lace panties....with an opening cut into the front of them to accommodate the thick, eight-inch-long, strap-on penis that she must have found in my nightstand drawer.

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In the early grey light of dawn, my eyes travel over her as she sleeps, wispy strands of hair trace patterns on her cheek, a damp spot on the pillow, the saliva of slumber, freckled shoulders naked as the breaking day. We passed the point of turning back; hands held we crossed a bridge, felt its heat as it burnt in the darkness of the night lighting our future.

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"Honey?" My girlfriend pushed me away gently and said the word I feared the most. We had just entered her apartment and by the time she locked the door I couldn't resist. I started kissing her. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever been with. But every time she said, "Honey" it was always followed by something I wouldn't like.

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Lucy Wright was forty two and divorced with two grown sons. Both sons were in college but that did not mean much as the college was just across town. John the oldest was a senior and due to graduate in the fall. He had an apartment near campus, which he shared with his girlfriend. Joe the youngest was a sophomore and lived at home most of the time.

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Terrance Madison looked around the crowded ballroom, hoping for a glimpse of her, not seeing her anywhere. For a brief moment, all his old insecurities came flooding back to him. Terrance pushed them back down -- way, way down, because there was no logical reason to have them any more. At 43, he looked great -- better than he had some 25 years earlier.

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My wife and I had a fight and she went to her mother's. I enjoyed the freedom for a couple of weeks, but I was missing sex, having been used to getting it almost daily. I thought of picking up a slut at a bar, but then I remembered having had a brief experience with another guy in high school, several years ago. At 35 years old I wondered why such a memory would return to me after all these years.

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"So," I asked My wife and slave as W/we lay in bed, "have you given any thought to a Halloween costume for this year?" "What!?!" was her anticipated response. "Master, it's just barely the beginning of September!!!" "So?" I chided her, gently pinching her just above the hip bone. "There's no reason to not think about it now, is there?"

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I didn't like Carl when I met him. I liked him even less when I realized what he was up to. The place was an upscale bar in a big city. It doesn't really matter where. It could have been anywhere. It could have been in your hometown. You know the kind of bar I'm talking about. Lots of wood, a friendly but quiet bartender, maybe a little jazz trio on some nights. It was the sort of watering hole businessmen and vacationers stop in after a day's selling, conferences or touring. A nice place.

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As I drove down the lane I could see no lights coming from the house. Only the flicker of candlelight was coming from my bedroom windows. Anxious with anticipation I hurried from the car to the front door. As the door opened I could smell the scent of vanilla and jasmine and hear the soft sounds of music.

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They had first met in an insurgent camp outside Yogyakarta in the Indonesian jungle, far from their own country of the Philippines. In the Philippines there was little chance that they would have met, especially while the Americans were still there in force, but even in more recent years when the government had been weak and taken up with internal squabbling.

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