Your erotic stories

We are married for more than ten years. We are yet to be blessed with a child. I am Nidhi, a mixed North Indian offspring of a Punjabi father and a Kashmiri mother, I am now in my mid thirties. I have fair complexion, tall, slim and well developed boobs. My hubby Venky, a typical southee, would reach forty in another few months. He is tall and dusky.

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In the darkness of the room, my eyes close and I listen to my breathing and heartbeat. The sheets freshly laundered, the slight sweetness of the fabric softener fills my senses. Gradually my body warms the bed and I doze off in the enveloping warmth.

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My name is Brad and I'm huge. I'm talking 6'4 and 245lbs of muscle. To top it off, I'm a bear and I'm only 20. Imagine a bull in the china shop, that's me. I fucking hate it. I've always heard that we want what we can't have. That is so true. I wish that I was small and delicate but I'm not. I'm a big hairy oaf.

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It had been a busy week. Michelle was walking out to her car, deep in thought, distracted. She was glad it was finally the weekend. She'd been running her tail off all week trying to impress a new client and hadn't seen her boyfriend, Dave, since last weekend. Smiling at the thought, Michelle couldn't wait to see him. He had called today. He sounded mischievous, playful.

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"Well," Tom sighed, "what other romantic songs do we have for Valentine's Day? More Dean Martin?" The little piano bar was more crowded than on some nights. It had been a shore day, St. Martin. No big production show tonight, just one of those juggling comedians that seem to find their way on to cruise ships. Washed up, like him, flotsam bobbing against the shoreline, but not quite, not quite stranded yet.

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Adam had just turned eighteen. His aunt Kelly had sent him a plane ticket to come spend two weeks in Las Vegas with her and her daughter's Trina was twenty-one and Lisa was twenty-seven. He arrived at the airport at nine fifteen on a Wednesday evening. His cousins were waiting on him, holding a big sign that said Adam's Family. They always liked to joke around and he laughed at their sign.

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"You've got to talk to me, Babe." His fingers trailed down her throat...down her chest...over the curve of her breast, the nails leaving the slightest trace of redness in their wake. Her body arched instinctively, hungry for his touch. She writhed there, tugging at the nylon cuffs that kept her wrists bound over her head.

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I'm middle-aged, a former Naval Officer and currently a CPA. I have my own business with no other employees. I was married once, but she had a boyfriend while I was at sea. I kicked her out and have been alone since. I'm not complaining because I have many lady friends if you know what I mean. I own my own home in a nice residential neighborhood and the people there know I'm single. On one side of my house is a nice spinster lady with lots of animals.

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Going to try for a long chapter after this one. The events I've written for now aren't really conducive to length without getting overly tedious. Thanks to those people who submitted comments. I really appreciate the input. Lastly, I've been told my transition between perspectives could use a little work, so any tips or suggestions there would be phenomenal.

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I am more than a little bit phobic about sex. I blame it on my Catholic upbringing. I’ve never had sex without throwing up afterward. I’m scared of getting pregnant; terrified of catching a disease; but mostly just creeped out by the idea of another person touching my privates. It really makes my skin crawl.

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