Your erotic stories

The girls had been out into town for a few drinks and had come back to Charlie's house, opening a bottle of wine on their return and chatting till the early hours. They knew each other through a friend and had been on many nights out together over the past 8 years. They were both in their 20's with curvaceous bodies. Charlotte, Charlie to her friends, was tall and blonde, whilst Jane was small and had an exotic look about her. But however different their appearances were they had similar minds when it came to sex.

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It all started when Tom broke his finger. He was helping to move some of his elderly Father's furniture when the middle finger of his right hand got caught between the shelf he was carrying and the door frame. A quick trip to the hospital and Tom's middle finger was in a brace.

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My downward spiral into a submissive bottom slut started late in life. I'm still very much in the closet and outwardly I appear as the perfect suburban husband, father, employee and neighbor. I love my wife and family but I recently found a new hobby that I crave with a passion; I can't get enough of my neighbor's big hard cock. It all started innocently enough. I'm an economics professor at UC San Diego and my office is in one of the older buildings on campus.

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I am a 34 year old divorced woman. I have recently moved from the small town where I spent my whole life to a larger city, to re-start my life. My ex-husband had little or no interest in sex. Sometimes it would be months between feeble attempts. There was never anything interesting or creative. No oral, or anal, which I was craving.

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She came into his shoe store a few minutes before closing time. It had been a tough day and he was tired. He was about to snap at her, something cold and impersonal like, "Lady, the store closes in 5 minutes." But there was a way she walked that caught his attention and made him stand straight. She was a petite woman, barely 5 feet tall. She carried herself with a quiet confidence and radiant sexuality. And maybe it was because she was wearing a short leather skirt that hugged her hips, and a skimpy form fitting leather vest on top, nothing underneath.

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This story began a bit over five years ago as I write this, little did I know when I accepted this assignment that my life would be changed forever. United States Marine Sergeant Robert A. Whitson and I would begin rehabilitating him physically and mentally as he learns that the roadside bomb in Afghanistan took only his feet. He is still every bit the man he was prior to his injury. This is our story.

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OK so it wasn't what I had planned in the beginning but hey, it worked out great, and in fact life couldn't be better. Although it didn't start out looking like it was going to, in fact when Kristine called I was a bit concerned, it was three in the morning and she was crying. Karen, my wife, was sitting rubbing the sleep out of her eyes staring at me as I tried to calm down the hysterical woman on the other end of the phone.

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She came for the second time that night as her husband continued to pound away at her by now dripping pussy from behind. She loved the way he manhandled her in bed, and loved to feel dominated by him. And his much larger than average size always left her feeling well fucked and satisfied. Jamie and Steve had been married for a little over a year. And although their marriage was a happy one, they both felt a constant threat from others who wanted them to split up.

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Amber was sitting on the subway train going into the city. All seats were taken and some passengers were standing. Amber saw a young business woman, about 30 years old, standing about eight feet away facing in Amber's direction. What a stunning woman, thought Amber. She was dressed in a dark gray suit that couldn't hide the shapely body beneath it.

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I was spending the day at my friend Roger’s house, and was planning on staying the night. We spent much of the rainy day in Roger’s back yard, which bordered a rushing swollen drainage stream. Needless to say, we were soaked by late afternoon when Roger’s mom called us in for dinner. His mom made us strip off our wet, muddy clothes in the mud room just off the garage before she let us in the house. She had supplied two large Turkish towels in which to wrap ourselves.

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