Your erotic stories

Julia and I had been together for a few years. Besides being intimate with each other, we were also best friends. We had tried all the usual sexual stuff - missionary, her on top, riding her from the back, oral, and so on. We also had fantasised about other things, threesomes, and gang bangs, but never quite mustered up the courage to take these things through beyond some play acting with each other.

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I think it's probably safe to say that most people have at least two distinct sexual memories; losing their virginity, and the best sex they ever experience. For a variety of reasons, the two events are usually distinct and separate. Most people recall losing their virginity with fondness for obvious reasons, but will admit the awkwardness of the first time encounter, based usually on the lack of experience on the part of one or both participants.

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Dee is a married woman, and a mother. She is 40 years old. Steve is her voyeur husband, who is 39, and they share a wonderful marriage. They also like to play. If you don't like thi idea or sound of this, then for goodness sake, don't read on! However, if you do, and you enjoy all the Marriedpervs stories, then enjoy, and oh yeah, let us know what you think ok?

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I was on my stomach. My tongue nestled in Georgie's ass crack as she also lay on her stomach on the bed in front of me. She was sucking Chas's cock – her husband. Behind her, I was slowly moistening her anus, in preparation for what I was about to give her. Around my waist was my new blue jelly dong, complete with the strap on attachment that would allow me to fuck my best friend in the ass.

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We've been at the cocktail party for a few hours, and admittedly I'm tipsy. Which in turn, makes me horny. Hornier than usual.. and I know this pleases you, as you will be the benefactor later. Provided I don't drink too much more. But... one more drink... before we go home... and I indulge you. As I head to the bar ( or slightly stumble?) I cannot help noticing a man... well I notice all men... but this one in particular is easier to pick out, as it seems he has been noticing me all night.

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Brad was an only child. He was six years old when his mom, Karoline, died in an accident. He had fond memories of his mom, especially of the one summer he spent in Northern California at her family's beach-front home. Often, he looked at a photo taken on a beach that showed him being hugged by his mother and a woman with long neck and legs. The woman called him, Berde, a Danish name. After his father remarried, he did not have a good relationship with his step mother, Brigitte. He saw her as an immature and selfish woman.

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Sue and I had finally gotten away for a mini holiday. It was nice to be able to just relax and not have to worry about work or the house. We went to hotel near Dartmoor for a few days that had indoor and outdoor pools, a Jacuzzi, and a sauna. Just what is needed to work out that stress.

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I was bartending at a restaurant I work at in a tourist town. One night an attractive couple came in and we enjoyed a nice chat. The womans name was Bridgette, and she had a French accent, very attractive with short, dark hair, a gorgeous smile on her painted lips. Her man, David, was a good looking guy, short curly hair, and a goatee. They were Canadian.

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The Piper Malibu bumped and rocked as it touched down on the airstrip in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing around the 4000-foot concrete pad except a couple of hills, a whole bunch of desert and some mountains barely visible through the shimmering heat on the horizon. The plane rolled to a stop and headed straight back up the runway and aimed at one of the large hills off to the side. As the plane came closer the front half of the hill slid apart to reveal a large hanger with several smaller planes parked inside.

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Patterson and I had just ordered a pizza when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID window and looked up as the waitress brought us a pitcher of beer. "Sorry, dude," he said. "I need to take this one. It's Mom." He looked away and lowered his voice as he turned his attention to the call. I tried to pretend I was suddenly interested in the clever "Go Tigers!" declarations hanging on the walls of Sal's Pizza.

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