Your erotic stories

I am leaving work about fifteen minutes behind everyone else. I got stuck on the phone and missed the mass exodus to the parking garage. I hate walking though the structure in the dark by myself. Even though nothing has ever happened here, I still don't feel safe. The dim lighting and confusing echoes make me nervous. I walk quickly with my head up, clutching my keys tightly in my hand.

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Peggy Williams taught English at the local public high school. She was a very sophisticated woman at age 42 and she had managed to maintain her figure. Her breasts were large enough for her at a 36C cup. She had a slight tummy bulge but it was not that noticeable. Her ass was a little bigger and fleshier than she liked but it was still round and shapely. Her legs were almost perfect and she liked wearing skirts that showed them off.

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Sue walked into the bar feeling a little self-conscious. She nervously ran her hand through her shoulder length red hair, pulling on the curls slightly, and allowing the curls to spring back, looser than before. It had been a long time since she walked into a bar alone. That, and the fact that she felt both overdressed and underdressed. She was wearing the outfit he, her husband Michael, had set out for her—her black and white v-neck dress.

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"You know, the scene where Clark Gable carries Vivian Leigh up the stairs." They were at dinner, discussing everything from work to politics. Now it was movies. The conversation had just taken an interesting turn. "I'm not sure which one you mean." "You know," she said. "If you've seen the movie, you know. Rhett carries Scarlett up the stairs after they've quarreled. Rhett had gotten drunk earlier. He threatens her, then he carries her up the stairs. The next time you see Scarlett she's waking up, stretching, with a smile on her face."

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Today was unlike most of Robert's recent days. With one week left until he was expected to hand in the final revision of his thesis to the publisher of the journal, weekends and weekdays blended together to make these final weeks the worst of his grad school if not the worst of his entire life. Today though, was his thesis defense.

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As Rob and I have told you, in our previous stories, we have been active swingers for some years. I usually prefer the MFM threesomes, possibly cause I’m greedy, or the fact I’m just not bi-sexual, unlike most women in the swinging scene. Or at least the ones I’ve met are. Anyway as a result of this, Rob has to work really hard to get me interested in going to swinger’s parties, or hosting them. This particular Saturday night was one of those where Rob worked really hard.

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INTRODUCTION It was the summer of 1973 and I was the catcher for a fast pitch softball team. I learned about the team from friends who I had met in our townhome complex. Biff and Steffi were married and they lived in a townhome a few buildings from mine. Biff was the pitcher for the softball team and he had mentioned that they needed a catcher. I had played baseball in high school and college as a catcher so I told Biff that I was interested.

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It started out as just another Saturday night – me, Terry, Jezza and a few other lads going out into Luton for a few beers and a bit of fun. Then Terry mentioned some gay celebrity he'd seen mincing about on TV before he came out, and we were into the usual shared rant about how queers were taking over, and soon it'd be compulsory to take it up the arse.

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I had only been out of work for a week, and already I was getting bored. And that's a bad thing for me . . . to be bored. It's how I always get into trouble. Okay, it's one of the ways I get into trouble. So here I am, back home in the mountains of Tennessee, and I need something to do. It's beautiful here, and very secluded.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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