Your erotic stories

It was a gorgeous, sunny day in late July just about a week before my birthday. I had just signed off on an incredible deal that was going to make my company millions and net me a signing bonus big enough to keep me in very expensive shoes for a very long time to come. As I settled into my high back leather chair behind the great mahogany desk that is the centerpiece of my office, I gave a little stretch and yawn and kicked off my four and half inch patent leather pumps.

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Maggie couldn't believe her luck. She knew she had been a long shot for the assignment to cover the first Mardis Gras in New Orleans after the flood. At twenty-two years of age she was only one of a large group of junior writers at the paper, but she had been working hard and producing some good writing and had been rewarded with the job.

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I have been a very lucky man: my parents could afford to send me through college and school-work came easy for me; fresh out of college I landed a prestigious and lucrative position in a major law office; when my father passed-away I inherited the family business; with little effort I built the business up to the point where a competitor bought me out and I made a huge profit;

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I got a call from my friend, Tara, to go to a party across campus. I almost didn't go - it was a Friday night, I was tired, and I was feeling really down for no real reason. But she got me up for it by coming over and bouncing on my bed until I agreed to go...and out we were! The party was at this little house in the college section of town, with people who went to another school.

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This story contains some male bisexuality. If that's not your thing, you might want to pass. Years ago I wrote about the first time I met with a bi farm couple here in Colorado. To this day it is one of my fondest memories, as I experienced some things for the first time in my life that I really enjoyed.

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I'd walked down this street and seen the sign for the Turkish Bathhouse before and often wondered what it would be like, I knew that no females were allowed in and assumed it to be full of fat sweaty loud old local men. Today my wife was out shopping with a girlfriend from another town and was making a night of it so I had plenty of time to kill and thought I'd give it a go.

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Brian and I weren't best friends, but we shared a love for winter sports -- especially snowboarding. Our other friends bitched about the cold. Brian and I considered it a challenge, and we were always trying to out-do each other by buying the newest designs in winter sport clothing. I had jackets, pants, and underwear made of silk, wool, polar fleece, polypropylene, and just about every other thermal plastic you can name.

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Jennifer sat in the coffee house, waiting. Her hands kept touching the cup in front of her or her hair - reflexively adjusting it, stealing glances at herself in the floor to ceiling window by her table. Men walked by with furtive glances. This was new. She got her share of attention – early thirties, slim, pale blue eyes, and shoulder length auburn hair just like she wore in her early twenties.

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Julia picked up another glass of champagne as she glanced around the room. "Pompous assholes," she thought to herself, taking a sip of the drink, watching the endless parade of rich old men arm in arm with their trophy wives. Julia hated these functions and cringed at the mere mention of attending one. It was her duty, however, as her husband expected her to be there hanging off his arm like all the other fake plastic gold diggers that frequented fundraisers such as this one.

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I knew my roommate was into some strange things, but I didn't know what to make of the over-sized diaper I found in her drawer one afternoon when I was looking for a shirt she'd borrowed from me. Cara was like that; she never returned anything, and I've always thought it rather childish, but not diaper-wearing childish.

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