Your erotic stories

I remember my first time with a woman. I don't know how many of you do but it's crystal clear in my mind. I was a late bloomer to say the least. Well at least when it came to being a lesbian and coming to terms with my sexuality. I didn't realize what I'd been feeling towards women was attraction until I was nearly twenty-two years old. After I came to the understanding, it took me another two years to accept it.

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He was almost completely untouchable. Even in his tribe he was an anomaly, the rest of the friendly people tactile by normal standards, but to him they kept a respected distance, granting him the space the shaman deserved by some silent demand to keep all hands off of his smooth dark skin.

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As is often the case, one small thing set about a chain of events. One of my friends made an offhanded remark about taking it up the ass. I thought she was joking at first, but when I followed up with questions, she told me that she lets her husband do it to her occasionally, and they both really like it. The whole idea of having something shoved into my butt seemed less than enjoyable. It was a one way path in my mind. Every time my husband, Jason, had raised the subject of playing with that area, I shut him down immediately.

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"I bet you can't get him to bar up while he's exercising," Emma said to her friend Mandy. "Oh yeah? I reckon that I could," Mandy replied. She and Emma had been watching the new guy in the gym. He was well toned, tall, had dark hair and eething grey eyes that they'd both admitted seemed to pierce their souls at the merest glance.

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Sometimes me and Mike just love to go out, pick up a slut or a stud, or a couple of them, and have ourselves nasty threesomes or foursomes. Lately we've really been getting off on picking up guys, especially since about a year ago I got my husband to start messing around with bi guys, even a few gay guys, bringing out Mike's 'bi' side, which I soon discovered was a big part of him.

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You come home from work and find me waiting for you. I am wearing a French maid uniform with white thigh highs and black stiletto heels. I lead you to the bathroom where a robe and toiletries are ready for you. Relaxing music is playing. "We have about half an hour until dinner is ready, Sir."

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Devaro was sharing a tavern wench with his newly married friend Mario. As a soldier, Devaro was the firm-bodied handsome young man that had never had trouble with women. Even the foolish wench he shared with his friend seemed to favor him as he spread her legs wide over the small bed and brought his strong fingers to her openly moist vagina, touching her in circulatory motions until she began to moan, even with her opened mouth firmly over Mario's groin, as Mario held the back of her neck, demanding she suck him harder.

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An old Army friend of my husband showed up one day out of the blue. Norman had just bought a business hear our home town and came by to say 'Hi." To my husband. That is how Fred and I became interested in RVing. Norman sold motor homes and travel trailers over in Ohio just across the state line. We visited Norman at the sales lot and Fred was hooked on this as the only way to travel. So we bought a new motor home with all the bells and whistles. We also found out about snow-birding.

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Hannah Armstrong's political career had progressed splendidly over the past 18 months. That was the length of time for which she'd been sleeping with the Prime Minister. Well, for the first few weeks of their relationship, after he'd appointed her as his Parliamentary assistant, she'd just sucked his dick on a regular basis. The first time they'd actually fucked had been on a trip to Gstaad in Switzerland for an international economic summit.

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The damned old truck just gave up the ghost. It coasted down to the bottom of the hill and died. It was very old, 400 and some thousand miles on the clock. Everything in it was worn out including the driver. Life can be a real bitch. I shouldn't have tried to go that far with it anyway. I figured the little trailer we were dragging behind her didn't help any. I hadn't had much choice. My new truck was in the shop because it was acting up. The parts for the plane had to be picked up at the freight office. I had no choice but to try old Betsy, I don't think she had been more than a mile or two from the ranch in years. Mostly she was strictly used on the place.

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