Your erotic stories

I left work and walked across the car park to the small massage therapist's room that was attached to the end of our building. After a stressful day at work, with customers and bosses yelling at me and demanding attention I felt drained, tired and tense. I popped my head around the door and saw Gail sitting at reception, a book of pencilled figures in her hands, glasses perched on her nose. She was in her early 40's, not unattractive for her age and slim, standing at about chin height. She had shoulder length blond her and a friendly and open face.

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Dallas and Eve had hinted around to each other about wanting to go to a "club" like the one he'd found on the internet. You know the type of hint; those sort-of cloaked suggestions that are buried in nervousness and a bit of shame. And you know the type of club; those private, join for the night "swinger" places where basically anything goes.

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"Fuck", I say to him, "if you had a pencil dick, you'd be sliding in there now, right up to your balls, all nine or ten inches of you." "Ten," he says in my ear, nuzzling me. "Ok, ten," I say, my mouth now at his ear. "Whatever," I smirk. 'Ten' I know it is. It's our private joke. We'd measured it how many times.

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It was one of those moments. We've all had them. They come from nowhere and before you know it you're doing things that you always said you wouldn't. No, by God, would he ever get me to do that! Colin and myself had just had a shower. Separately. He went first whilst I made a few sandwiches then I went in surrounding myself with the smell of gel and body spray and warmth.

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I was excited beyond words, I had been told of this place by many but never dreamed I would actually go myself. And it was considered a gag gift from my best friend when she handed me the ticket for entry on my birthday.

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I had seen him around the halls a few times, but he had only smiled weakly at me and glanced at the ground. For the longest time I didn't even know his name. I assumed he must be an adjunct professor at my prestigious graduate school; he dressed professional, and his silver hair was a clue to his age bracket. For the life of me, I do not understand why he was so intriguing. He stood about six feet tall, and his body-type was that of a wrestler or rugby player;

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I'm going to play dress-the-dolly tonight, because that's what I like to do. This particular dolly is – let's see – diminutive, with pale, oriental skin. Absolutely flawless and smooth. Her hair is straight, reaches down below her shoulder-blades, and is as black as midnight, as black as my unlit bedroom, although I can see every detail of her as if it was broad daylight.

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Wow, she thought, he was pretty well hidden. The car had appeared out of nowhere, lights already flashing, the siren going, catching up to her at rapid speed. She was not actually going all that fast, just over seventy, but then again, it was a forty-five (for no good reason, by the way), and that meant she was flirting with thirty miles per hour of speeding, and that was never a good thing.

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Rina wrinkled her nose in disgust and set her coffee cup down. "Ugh! Jessica!" "No, really," her friend answered, "It's a huge turn-on, believe me. I kind of thought it was gross when I first heard of it, but now I have him do that almost all the time." "Jerry does that? YOUR Jerry. Oh my gosh!"

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Anthony and Miya had spent his special day in bed, alternating between making love and dozing in satisfaction. Neither cared about the world outside, it was his birthday and he was intent on spending it the best way that he knew how - with his beautiful Latin lover in his arms. No, Miya was more than just a lover to him. She was his kindred-spirit; his sexual soul mate, as well as his playmate. They had a deep and unwavering passion for sex.

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