Your erotic stories

My going away party was winding down. I wasn't going to miss this place but I would miss the people. That was for certain. All of the other bosses had gone and only Chrissie and myself remained as well as Tim, Ron, and Frank. They were always like my older brothers and they had always looked after me. I was 36 and had been with the company for almost ten years. We all joked that we had to keep sending each other e-mails. "The nastier the better" Tim said referring to how I always sent good, funny and sometimes raunchy e-mail to them.

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The first time I was with another couple was in California. I worked at night as a musician, spent days running, biking, practicing. Occasionally I'd pick up a movie at the local adult store. Adult store patrons are the same the world over: middle-aged married men, rendezvous-ing gay men, horny twenty-year-old gotta-get-off-NOW men (that was me). Drunks and druggies of all shapes and sizes. A prostitute or two. And the occasional nervous couple.

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As luck would have it, I finally met a girl I liked. And she seemed to like me. Our third date and she was letting me cook her dinner. At my apartment. Just me and her. I could not blow this. I let her into my building, and we began to walk up to the third floor. I was a gentleman and let her in first and we began to climb the stairs. Of course there are advantages to being a gentleman. Like walking up a flight or two of stairs with a pretty girl in front of you and being able to gaze at her ass.

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I am what is commonly called a soccer mom. But in this case I guess it is to be taken literally. My own two sons grew up playing soccer. Over the years I drove God knows how many hundreds or maybe thousands of miles; to practice, from practice, to games, from games, to the sporting good store, etc. You get the idea. My sons played for the Centerville Centurions for their four years of high school, and I was at every game cheering them on to victory and consoling them in defeat.

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They fucked like two wild and overheated animals an hour ago and now were luxuriating in the sweetly sublime afterglow of their lovemaking, naked in bed, idly caressing each other, nuzzling and talking. Yvette thought that maybe now was the right time to mention it. “You know, Don,” she said, running a finger through his hair, gazing into his eyes, “I’ve had this new fantasy lately, and I just can’t get it out of my head. I mean, it’s something I’ve been thinking about that really, really turns me on.

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"Don't think I haven't noticed how Jack looks at my tits when he doesn't think I'm looking at him," Janice told Marie. "Yeah, he's a boob man, can't help it," Marie answered. "Doesn't it bother you?" said Janice, "If he looks at my boobs you know he's gotta check others out too." "Nope, I trust him," said Marie, "When I catch him checking another woman out he always reminds me that he may be on a diet but that doesn't stop him from reading the menu. Besides, we've talked about doing a threesome some day."

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I work in the City, and take the Underground home each evening to the suburbs. I have a nice stroll—just a couple of blocks—down pleasant, tree-lined streets with older, simple semi-detached houses. For a long time, one of the houses I passed was unoccupied. I had often fantasised, while walking by each evening, that someday I would take a love (strictly a fantasy figure) to the empty house for an evening of pleasure.

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I have never been a pretty girl. I am tall (six feet in my stockings) and skinny, with wide hips and a big nose that never really recovered its shape after a bicycle accident when I was eight. To make matters worse, I've never been a girly girl: I don't wear make-up or make a big fuss about my hair. Growing up I liked playing dungeons and dragons and basketball. I was a nerd. The guys all thought I was a freak. Maybe they were right.

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We'd met several times in our local pub on a Friday night. There were various couples used to come down to listen to the live music, and we'd exchanged a few words and smiles now and again. So we kind of knew them. They were in their forties, a bit younger than me and my wife, but I what most attracted me to them was her gorgeous breasts, and the way she always seemed to show off in tight sweaters and cardigans. Sometimes thick and chunky, other times soft, like angora. But always so sexy!

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It was before noon and I had checked into my hotel. I called the potential customer to confirm my afternoon appointment, only to be informed that something had come up and he wouldn't be able to meet me that afternoon. Agitated, I fumed for a few minutes, for if I'd known that, I would have waited to fly into Rockford until the next morning. Now my afternoon was wasted, not to mention the needless expense of a night in a hotel. Then I remembered that my old running buddy, Vincent Zemoza had been transferred to Rockford about five years ago.

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