Your erotic stories

Taking the last bottle of Bud left from the night before out of the cool-box and opening it; Dawn slipped two aspirin onto her tongue and washed them down. "Damn, I sure need this," she spoke to herself. Her head ached badly; it felt like a little guy wearing big boots was kicking inside her brain in time with her pulse.

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I say goodbye to Diana as I climb out of the car. As I begin to walk, a bit unsteadily, towards the front door, I find myself reminiscing about the Sunday brunch we just had. It is always fun getting together with the girls to discuss family, life, and of course, sex! I can feel my nipples hardening against the satin top I have on, due in part I am sure to the amount of champagne I consumed, but also thinking back to the steamy conversation with the girls!

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My wife Kate walked into the house first, naked. Lori, our good friend and down the street neighbor, followed closely behind. She was also naked and chuckled quietly as we climbed the stairs from the back deck to the house. I followed those two gorgeous derrieres into the cool kitchen. This had already been quite the afternoon. We had all been laying out in the back yard, getting some early spring sun on ourselves. We were all a bit pink. Some were stickier than others.

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I am one lucky son of a bitch. There. I said it. I have a life any other guy would kill to have. And I have no idea why, except when genes play a role. It certainly isn't because I'm a genius, because I'm not. I'm not the biggest, the fastest, the strongest, or the best athlete. I'm sure as hell not rich. Just lucky. Now, I did mention genes helped out, and I wasn't lying. I mean, I'm pretty average-looking: brown hair, green eyes, thin, six feet tall even, straight teeth.

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Natalia Petrovitch walked down the beach, wearing her smallest bikini and enjoyed the beauty of the morning. The feeling of the warm sand was comforting between her toes. There had been an early-morning fog, but it had lifted and it now appeared as if was going to be a truly beautiful day. There was just enough breeze to keep some of the heat away and later, she would lie out in the sun and work on her tan. She knew that tanning was ill-advised now, but it was just one of the many things she had never really been free to do.

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In the spring of 1969 I landed a job as the overnight DJ on a radio station in Seattle. I was the only person in the station during most of my shift and enjoyed talking to listeners who called to request songs or just wanted to talk to someone. One of my regular callers, Kristy, had a pleasant voice and a thing for a particular Linda Ronstadt song. She would call two or three times a week for that song, telling me that she couldn't get to sleep unless she heard it.

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"I don't understand it," Gem said with growing irritation. She checked her watch for the tenth time in three minutes. "The girls should have been here by now." "Relax, baby," Ron purred in her ear. He had come up behind her as she stood looking out the window, and was now running a hand over her rounded butt cheek through the fabric of the short skirt she was wearing. Gem was five and a half feet tall, with long, honeyed hair, hazel eyes, full breasts and a body well-toned from regular exercise.

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I've been working down on the south side of Corpus, for about a year and a half. I was going all the way to the east side of town to have a beer. It had taken me several months to find a bar that I felt safe and welcome in. One problem was the distance and the cops and the other was that I wanted to practice my darts but no one wanted to play. The only time the dart boards were used was on league play nights and that was for team members only.

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So after the back seat experience with Tara, Rob and Trevor, (See my story "Tight Places") it had been pretty routine. It was back to the grind with school and Trevor and I had hung out a few more times and slept together, but nothing noteworthy. Tara had gotten a job on campus and I had not been seeing too much of her with our busy class schedule. So when an evening became available when both of us had no plans we jumped at the chance to do something. Being boorish, we had decided to go over to Rob's and hang out.

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You have a better chance of appreciating this story if you have a large closet full of dresses that were carefully chosen to look professional and a small drawer of lace and silk originally intended for your husband alone. If you're a man who wants me to swallow a big load of cum by the second paragraph, then you'll get along with my husband; but you'll have to look elsewhere for a story. Even in my husband's stories, I never seem to get laid by another man (or women) until the bottom of the first page or the top of the second.

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