Your erotic stories

- 1 - My husband Dan is an engineer—and, I strongly suspect, a sex addict. Until recently, these were separate parts of his life. Not that I'm complaining, too much, about Dan's strong libido. He's always been faithful. And he's also a willing student—and budding master—of my body. I may want sex less frequently than he, but I probably get more enjoyment from it than I deserve for my own efforts. Besides, Dan's curiosity and drive definitely keeps things interesting in our bedroom—and sometimes outside of it too!

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My name is Mark and I have a confession. I'm an attractive 35 year old man with a pretty wife and two great little kids. I have a good job, a nice house and what appears from the outside to be a perfectly normal life. But I have a secret...a hot, sexy, naughty, filthy little secret named Lizzy. Lizzy was 19 when this all started (actually she had just turned 20, but that didn't make me feel any better). She was the daughter of Tom, one of my two bosses and a guy that could ruin my life if he ever suspected that I had done anything with his gorgeous daughter.

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Why was my best friend telling me this? God, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? I sat back against the hood of his car and sipped on a beer. On Javier's front lawn was a grill and flames were shooting up from the charcoal we'd just lit. We were both nineteen. I don't remember how the topic got started, but the sentence I've committed to memory was:

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Beth sat on the couch, watching Lisa as she moved around the kitchen. It had been what? Ten years she thought. A long time, but Lisa still looked great. She swirled her wine, enjoying the aroma as the drink cascaded around the edge of the glass. "You know you're not supposed to spin wine hard like that right?" Lisa asked laughing, startling Beth.

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One must love road trips. I know I do. Fate also has the most amazing way of showing you that even though you have it all figured out, there are certain things which can occur that are beyond even your wildest fantasy. I was driving down the road, coming home from a particularly horrible day at work. In the hazy mist of a cruel evening, something jumped in front of my Accord. I swerved to avoid it, which luckily I did, but managed to hit something else that was in the road.

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As the first pot of Monday morning coffee brewed, its rich fragrance floated heavily through the stale air of the office. Juliana, an experienced twenty-eight year old customer service rep enjoyed coming into work nearly a half hour earlier than anyone else. This was her private time -- her chance to catch up on emails, reports, and any actual work before her day started and her mind drifted to topics other than work.

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Jan's thoughts drifted as she reined her horse to the right at the intersection. She did not know where this road led, but exploring her new "neighborhood" was on the goals of her long Saturday evening rides. She had just been transferred to this small West Texas town from Boston, and she had resigned herself to make the most of it. She had enjoyed riding in her early teen years, and since she now found herself living in a part of the country where everyone seemed to own at least one horse.

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