Your erotic stories

It's a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and we are lying in the park. I have my head in your lap, listening to you reading snippets from a magazine as you lazily stroke my hair. My eyes drift closed and I start to get lost in the sound of your voice, your touch, and I think of what I what I want you to be doing to me. I open my eyes just the slightest bit, focus on the shape of your lips and am mesmerized. Your lips can leave the sweetest kisses, yet elicit such desire as they burn across my body.

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After finally tasting the sweet pussy of my assistant, Adian-which had been my fantasy since I first interviewed her- the images of my lips sucking her nipples and her intense blue eyes looking up at me while her tongue lapped moistly over my pussy lips and her glorious hairless pussy covering my face as I reveled in licking her kept flashing through my mind as I cooked and ate the usual evening meal with my husband.

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How much more could I take? How much more should I be expected to put up with? The time had come. I was ready to pay that that lying, complaining, sexless bitch I had been married to for 20 years. It was time for revenge. It was so different when we first met. She seemed so perfect for me. She loved my friends and they loved her. She’d hang with us, drink beer, and watch sports. And the sex, my God the sex was wonderful.

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At age 18, Paul Worthington had it all and was the envy of all his classmates at his high school in the upscale area of Holmby Hills in Los Angeles, one of the richest neighborhoods in California. Not only was Paul good looking, standing 6'1" tall weighing about 195 pounds, with sandy brownish blonde hair, green eyes, muscular shoulders and "six pack" abs, he was also the star of the basketball team, playing power forward and the star wrestler.

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"Please...please..." she begged quietly out to the darkness. "Take what you want, I swear I won't say-" "Shut up." He said it quietly, calmly. Jaquelyn didn't know how the man had gotten into her home, much less managed to get into her bed room without her hearing a sound. Had she forgotten to set the alarm? She had been apprehensive about living alone, but to have her worst fears come to fruition was something she thought was just her typical paranoid, overly cautious imagination.

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I was in the kitchen cleaning up when you got home from work. I heard you come through the front door, and I tried hard to stay focused on the task at hand and pretend as though I hadn't been waiting for you to come home all day. It was a blatant lie, of course, and my clothing fairly well advertised the fact. After all, who cleans kitchens in flirty, ruffly, short skirts and heels?

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I turned to the right as I reached the sign telling me that the fishing lake where I used to spend so many weekends with my father was only five miles away. I knew that before I would actually arrive to the lake, I would pass the small town -- well, little more than a hamlet -- where I could stop and buy some food, a six-pack of beer and of course some bait and fishing-outfit I had to replace. I had plenty of opportunities to buy these things on the road;

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This was the third time my stupid car had broken down in a fortnight. Maybe it was my fault for going for retro charm over reliability. I have a real soft spot for mini coopers though, having lost my anal cherry in the back of one and so when the time came to buy my own car I instantly went with the one that appealed most when it would have made much more sense to get something that wasn't going to end up in the garage every week.

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My husband and I live in a high-rise apartment in our mid-western city. Our neighbors in the next apartment are also a married couple, a little younger than we are. We have a lot in common, and we have become close friends. I don't want to use names, not even first names, because you never know who might read this. The woman next door has a job that requires a lot of travel, and she is out of town every other week. My husband also travels for business, and sometimes they are out of town at the same time.

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At the stable where I keep my horse there is a small upstairs area with a lounge. One night while I was at the stable alone, Lori and her boyfriend show up. Lori is very dedicated to her horse and wanted to check up on her. Not wanting to interfere, I quietly sneaked up to the upstairs lounge to wait for them to leave. I know Lori well enough to say hello, but frankly I'm not much interested. She has that hot, blonde girl attitude where she thinks she's better than the rest of us.

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