Your erotic stories

As I drifted around the park, I thought about the argument Nick and I had just had. We seem to be having the same argument over and over again, more frequently these days. You see, after trying anything and everything, our sex life, while exciting, was still plagued with one major problem. I don't orgasm during sex. When I'm alone, it happens, but it always seems to elude me when Nick and I are making love.

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I believe martial arts saved my life. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) to be specific. It saved me from obesity, low self-esteem, and it even stopped a rape once. I love both the qualities on the inside that make me who I am and the way I look on the outside. But it took a while for me to get here. I grew up fat. No, not just fat. Obese. The problem started in about sixth grade and got worse through the cruel years of junior high and high school.

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I knew I was taking a huge risk. To change the game at this late date was to risk ruining a very adequate relationship. But, I knew I deserved more than adequate. I wanted so much more. I suppose a little background is in order. I am 43 years old, working in an office, I have a "boyfriend" that I see three to four times a week.

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My first sexual encounter with a man happened in the summer of 1965 with my cousin Bob. I was 18 at the time, Bob was 20 and a college man. Bob was almost 6 feet tall. Had an athletic build, jet black and square jaw. A rather good looking young man. I on the other hand standing at a towering 5'7" with blond hair and blue eyes, lean and lanky.

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To be honest, I can’t really pinpoint where my fetish for hairy women began. As a kid, I can remember looking at old photos of Victorian woman in lingerie, and thinking they looked slightly strange with the thick patches of hair in their armpits, and when I did see the occasional woman with hairy pits in real life, I thought it unusual rather than exciting.

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Part of me hates this man, whom I'll call "X" for now. We didn't get along as a couple, which is why we broke up in the first place. I didn't even hate him when we broke up- it was very amicable, the old ‘we're just in very different places right now,' blah blah blah… but very soon after the split, I found myself fantasizing, over and over again, about the sex we used to have. It became totally consuming, to the point that I finally found myself breaking down and calling him on the phone one day.

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Gloria was glad she finally convinced her husband, Gary, to visit their old friends, the Porters in Orlando. Oh, Gary could be an old curmudgeon, sure enough. Everyone knew that. But even he admitted it would be nice to see the Porters again and Gloria was looking forward to seeing the Potters' daughter and son-in-law at the same time. They lived in a nice old home (or so she heard) right on the beach and they would be hosting Gary and Gloria during their stay in Orlando.

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I always liked to leave aerobic class late. My teacher was truly the first women I ever had a crush on. She was a perfect 5'6" with long thick blonde hair she wore in braids and the most perfectly shaped tits. I had had enough fantasizing and I was about to approach her when she walked into the shower room.

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We were talking in the kitchen when his friend came and stood between us. I glanced over at him, but looked back at Jose, a little confused by his insistence that his friend come and hang out with us. Suddenly, his friend, whom he had introduced moments before as Alec, was on his knees in front of me, slipping his fingers sensually along my inner thigh, just above my knee. I was shocked, and immediately moved back while pushing his hand away.

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"What the hell was that," Jake Armstrong said to himself, as he walked passed the closed office door on his way to the copy machine room. The long corridor was empty, as most of the staff was out to lunch, and Jake wondered who could possibly be using the vacant office at this hour. Well whoever it was, they sure as hell were making quite a racket in there. Jake put his ear to the door, listened for a few moments, and then slowly turned the handle and pushed into the supposedly empty office.

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