Your erotic stories

By the time the stripper arrived to the Bachelor party, we were all pretty drunk. It was a small party, really. There were eight of us to begin with, but Steve had an early flight the next morning and so had left by ten. Then Sean, the groom-to-be of all people, got too drunk too soon and passed out on the sofa not long after that.

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The flight had arrived on time, but the luggage was taking ages to arrive. It was already midnight, and I was feeling tired after spending full day at work and then flying to Cyprus. I was just waiting to get to the guesthouse and get in a good night's sleep. Watching the other passengers I could tell this was what other people were thinking as well. Soft bed and hopefully a nice and peaceful hotel. No parties for me tonight!

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"Mmmph.", I moaned, my mouth completely filled with the hard, throbbing member as I sucked it, my tongue working along the underside with horny zeal on it's way towards the tip. My head moved rhythmically back and forth as the head of his cock grazed my tonsils, then back out to the tip until my mouth was flooded with his thick, delicious cum.

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'Josie ... Come in, come in ... I'm so glad you could help me out like this.' Mistress Megan held open the door to her apartment, and as I walked in, I felt the normal jumble of emotions rise up and threaten to overwhelm me. I had received a text message from her at 4.30, while I was sitting rather bored in a meeting at the bank where I work. I was helping on a presentation to a group of fund managers who all thought they were rather clever and wonderful, but unfortunately, I didn't.

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My husband and I had decided to take a long weekend in Kansas City. Why Kansas City? He had some business there and we figured, why not let the company pay for some of the trip, and besides we'd never been there before. We did some research on the Internet and selected a quaint hotel in one of the many "neighborhood" areas that had been updated and brought back to life.

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I'm in your living room with another couple. He's broad and muscular, she is blonde and petite. They're both aged about 21, and you have no idea why I've brought them here -- but you have promised to do exactly as you are asked, without question. I've asked you to get changed upstairs, and come back into the living room when you're ready. You come into the room wearing a short summer dress, with only white socks on your feet.

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Paul's parents were out of town and his sister, Kim, had decided to have a few friends sleep over. He got along reasonably well with both his sister and her friends, but he certainly didn't feel like hanging around the house while they watched chick flicks and painted their nails, so he went out with a few of his friends.

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It started with a simple question. "What does swinging mean?" I asked. I sat at my computer on a Saturday morning wearing sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt. My husband, Bill, was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. "What?" he asked, a surprised set of eyebrows poked over the top of the folded black and white page.

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"I'm not ready to go back yet, but it's not like there's anything I can do about it, so I might as well just go with it," I said, half-staring down at my own feet. It was the day before I would begin the long four of years of the hell that was high school, and although I was intrigued by the idea of new people, a new building, and hopefully better food, my excitement and enthusiasm ended there. I had despised being a freshman in junior high, and I was just about to endure another year of the lowly freshman life, this time in a slightly bigger building.

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We'd only lived in the neighbourhood a few weeks, so when I first saw him mowing the lawn as I pulled into the driveway, I thought it might have been my own mistake. But no, I checked the house number, and I saw my wife's car in the other parking spot, so I knew I was in the right place. I shrugged and got out of the car. I reached back in for my briefcase, and then watched the young man mowing our lawn as I walked to the front door.

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