Your erotic stories

‘It’s Marcus, to see Lady Windsor,’ he yelled at the intercom. ‘Please drive up to the main entrance Sir, and the butler will greet you there,’ was the tinny reply. A buzzer sounded and the large metal gates slowly opened. The estate was enormous, and it took him a while to drive up to the mansion entrance.

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I hadn't seen my cousin Ken in almost five years. We sort of lost touch after high school and college. Now here he was arriving at my door. Ken was tall and thin with black hair. I could see he had been working out, as he looked fit. We talked briefly and then we went out for dinner and some drinks. We got caught on our family and friends and then we came back to my place.

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Not many people would view being a parking attendant as a glamorous job. Certainly Nate didn't expect it to be the kind of job where he'd get much pussy. He expected, and got, long, lonely hours, a stupid shirt with a logo on it, a tiny booth, and no heater. So far the September nights had been kind to him, but God only knew what it would be like when the really bad weather hit.

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As my wife Molly and I got into our fifties, things sort of settled down between us. Things of a sexual nature I mean. Neither of us were as slim and trim as we'd been when we'd met forty years before, and though I still considered her my best friend and sexually desirable, she, I believe, began to think she was no longer attractive. I tried to convince her otherwise (I mean, hey, I'm paunchy too!), and though she said she believed me, I knew that deep down inside, she felt somewhat ugly and unwanted.

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"I can't believe we're actually going on a cruise! I've wanted to do this for years." Margaret announced with giddiness. Ben, her fiancée rolled his eyes as they waited in line to board. "I'll be right back. I can't stop looking at the ship."

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Chapter 1: "Jake's Frustration" Wendy was purring contentedly. Her husband Jake was lying behind her in their warm king-sized bed with his arms wrapped around her and softly squeezing her breast and rolling her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His big 8 inches of man meat was buried in her pussy and he was deliciously slow fucking her from behind. Every time he moved into her she would push her ass back against him to heighten the sensation of his cock sinking into her wet pussy.

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It started on a mate's stag night/bachelor party, - whatever you know a bloke's traditional booze-up before his wedding as. A crowd of us hit the town, crawled the bars and eventually ended up at a lapdancing club, ahem, as you do. . . A good time was had by all, plenty of dances were bought, and the general agreement was what goes on the stag, stays on the stag.

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She felt like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland; running around worrying about how late she was for the photo shoot. the night before had been busy, for lack of a better word; her entire house was full of family and teenagers, not that she was complaining. She loved playing hostess for gatherings, no matter how many people showed up. This last time things had just not been in the possession of the right timing.

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My wife and I had a fight and she went to her mother's. I enjoyed the freedom for a couple of weeks, but I was missing sex, having been used to getting it almost daily. I thought of picking up a slut at a bar, but then I remembered having had a brief experience with another guy in high school, several years ago. At 35 years old I wondered why such a memory would return to me after all these years.

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Saturday I peered into the rearview mirror and saw the familiar VW logo of Jenna's Jetta. Not that I was worried about her finding her way. We'd been driving this route to the beach for over 15 of her 20 years, so she certainly knew the route. It was pretty much a straight shot from Columbia to Charleston on I-26 and then a short jog over to Isle of Palms. Nothing to it.

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