Your erotic stories

Lewis Shanklin was frustrated. It had been a year since his wife walked out on him and he hadn't had good sex since. He hadn't exactly had good sex with his ex-wife, but at least it was a regular supply of pussy without having to go through the charade of wining and dining a woman who might or might not put out. And his situation was worse still. He was in his mid-40s now and he wasn't as fit as he'd been in his 20's.

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I sat on the wide polished piano bench. Late afternoon sun cast striped shadows as it streamed through half opened blinds; golden motes of dust danced silently in the air. He sat, as he always did, next to me. Years ago, I had begged my mother to learn to play – we had a baby grand at home – and she finally relented.

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Mother in laws come in many shapes and sizes, and mine [ of some 3 months standing ] had a very voluptuous shape, a good nature, a sense of fun, was tall, slim, and in her early forties. My wife had hinted as to her having a roving eye and perhaps some affairs & not without the knowledge of her dad. He was Ron, a senior civil servant who was often away from their home in London.

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Rose McGuire was still somewhat amazed by the simple things that captivated her those days. She had been staring at a series of green vines and assorted flowers that had been painted on the wall of her cellar-apartment by the beautiful blonde girl sleeping next to her. It was hard to make out details by the ghostly light emitted by the television and its electric snow.

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Damn! Damn! Damn! What an ass on that woman!!! She was not a big woman, probably not more than 5' 4" tall and I would guess that she might weigh 130. She had a modest sized waist, maybe 23 inches, was probably 36C on the top but her bottom ... wow! I'll bet it was 40 inches, maybe 42, maybe even bigger. And as round as a beach ball.

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The thin curtains are drawn. The clean white sheets on the bed are luxurious. The delicate melody of the sea lapping against the shore outside is the perfect, never ending soundtrack for this special day together. I am lying under your hands on my stomach, a small covey of pillows underneath my hips. I am slowly melting into a liquid pool from the feeling of your mouth as it licks and sucks and nibbles the soft alabaster skin of my little round ass.

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“7:10am! Damn! “, I said to myself as I stood in front of Apartment 3D. I had been knocking on the door and pushing the buzzer for ten minutes. No answer! I had just tried using my cel-phone to call Josh’s number; it rang and rang. No answer there either!

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I teach at a small university in the Midwest, in a small town, the usual place where gossip spreads faster than the common cold. Those of you who live in one know exactly what I mean. My department moved into our new building after a year of construction and got two new secretaries about the same time. Our secretaries used to be spread all over the building, but now were concentrated in one room.

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I had been going out with Jo now for a month, and I was beginning to wonder if she really was serious about me - while we’d fooled around quite a bit, kissing and fondling, so far we had not actually gone to bed together. The opportunities never seemed to arise, or if they did, Jo would always make some excuse, or change the subject.

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He's coming tonight. I don't know how I know, but he is. I woke up trembling this evening. I've been in such a state, pacing through the abandoned corridors and empty cavernous rooms, turning on all the lights because I was frightened (the place is haunted, I'm sure of it), and then I turned them all off again because he prefers the darkness. Now I'm sitting at my desk writing it all down. That's why he gave me a desk, right? And paper, and a pen. There is precious little else in this manor, except for the books in the library, and I can't focus on what I'm reading when I'm like this.

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