Your erotic stories

One day I answered an ad in the local Swing paper. I got an answer with a telephone number. I called. I heard the most delightful English accent. We set up a date at her home. She asked if I minded if her husband would be there. I thought that was real cool, a man who allows his wife to bring her lovers into their home to fuck -WOW! But then, Europeans always were more open minded about sex than Americans.

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Winnie and Amy had been in the strip club for about 30 minutes observing the clientele and getting the occasional lap dance to get themselves more in the mood for what they had planned that night. As part of a "getting over our ex's" night, they planned to find a single business traveler and lure him back to the suite they booked for themselves at the nearby Sheraton to strip for him and maybe have some fun.

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We are a married couple of six years. I am 5'4", 34C pert breasts and wear a bikini well. My husband is 5'10" with a well toned build. We have always been pretty open and honest with each other when it came to sex. One night, while making love, my husband expressed his desire to watch me fuck another man, one with a large cock.

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I looked up at Emma's beautiful body, marveling at its perfection. She is athletic and toned with pert B-cup breasts which were quivering. Her face is heart-shaped and crowned with thick ash-blond hair cut to a medium length. Her eyes were closed, and her pink lipped mouth was open. I let my gaze travel down her smooth creamy flesh noting the trimmed line of her pubic hair. God I was going to miss her!

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There were three of us sitting in the bar that night. I was thinking of getting up and going home, even though it was still pretty early, but before I could speak to make my excuses, Romeo, who had been brooding all evening, abruptly spoke up.

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"You first encountered the defendant where, Mr. Philips?" "At my gym. We were members of the same gym." I did not want to be here, in this courtroom. But the DA had intimidated me. He had said that they might delve deeper into why I was in Baltimore—why I had left San Diego. I really didn't want them to do that. I had just fallen into it in San Diego.

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With it being the first time that Zachary Metzger had brought a friend over from school, his father, Thomas, had figured that it would probably be best for them all if he were to lay low throughout the day, give them their space. Most parents- it seemed as though they would jump at every opportunity to humiliate their offsprings, but not Tom. No... he was different.

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The smell of autumn was in the air, as the gentle breeze kissed my cheeks. Strolling through the farmer's market on an early Saturday morning, the sun was just starting to emerge. The rays of light dancing around me, I couldn't think of a better place I'd rather be.

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The scent of cooked turkey still lingered in kitchens across America and the shops and stores were already decorated for Christmas; the coffee shop where Carol sat being no exception. Disconsolately sipping her latte, she didn't feel in a very celebratory mood. The promise of employment that had motivated her to leave home and move to the city hadn't materialized and now she was homesick, low on funds and still job hunting.

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After another bout of love making, we were exhausted and fatigue had taken over our bodies. We showered together in the lavishly sinful bathroom, dressed again and left the place along with James, who drove us back to her place. On the way back to her place, she promised me another good time, and we fixed the appointment, and scheduled our program. We planned out where and what we would do for that next evening. James glided the car to a stop at her apartment gate. I pulled her in, as she was about to alight from the car.

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