Your erotic stories

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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INTRODUCTION

My name is Brian and at 27 years of age I consider myself to be bi-sexual. I love the ladies but I am not ready to make a long term commitment to one woman. I like to play the field and I love the art of seduction. Usually I am successful finding women to bed and I have found many a woman with the same objective when I am out clubbing. There are times however that I am not in the mood for the chase and I will seek out other methods of sex. 

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Nikki loved her job at the diner, although the pay was light and the hours heavy. She knew most of her customers by name, and counted most of them as friends. She also knew that their off-color comments, while generally sexual in nature, were delivered with no offense intended. Her breasts were a modest b-cup, and she often wished they were larger, but her ass made up the difference. It was an ass that men's dreams were made of.

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Chapter One "Annie is my 2 o'clock here yet?" Dr Janet Waters released the button on the intercom. "Not yet. Shall I send him in when he gets here?" Annie replied. "Yes please." Janet Waters released the intercom button and took a glance out the window. Fall colors were beginning to emerge on the hillsides surrounding Salt Lake City. Moving her eyes to the traffic four floors below her office window, Janet thought that perhaps the heavier than usual traffic on the streets below were causing her next patient to run a little behind schedule.

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It was accident that Phil had caught the earlier flight home and came home in the middle of the day he told himself. Still he had stood transfixed for half an hour peering through a small crack in the door of his lounge room looking at the scene before him. The hard on in his pants betrayed the excitement he felt. He had come into the house and hearing a giggle and a sweet squeal of a woman's voice half expected the television to be left on in the lounge room and his son watching daytime television rather than studying for his exams.

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I arrived at my Alaskan destination after four different flights, including one float plane. It was late in the evening but the sun wasn't cooperating; the natural lighting made it seem about 5pm. I was due to start a new seasonal job the following day. My first impression of my new "home" was positive: the air was brisk and clean, the snow looked pristine, and three absolute hunks came out of the bunkhouse to help me with my luggage!

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"Whoa, what's this?" exclaimed Gary to himself as he was sorting the laundry for washing. He had retired early from his management position and had taken on the duties of "house husband" to fill his time. For the past month he had faithfully done the wash, including folding and delivering it to the various rooms of the members of the family. Until this load, the only non-white cotton undies had been his partner's, who tended toward the colorful, but sensible cottons and occasional silks. Now staring him in the face were several pairs of thong bikini panties.

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FRIDAY A NIGHT OF DEBAUCHERY It was a Friday evening in May 1960 and the eight of us were at Dave's apartment drinking and playing teenage games. All of us were 18 years old except Dave who was 20. High School graduation was just a few weeks way. Susan and I had been dating and having sex for six months and I knew the others were as well. Frank and Shirley had dated their entire senior year. Jay and Sandy had been dating for a couple of months and Jay bragged about fucking her.

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I had been dating Doug, a big, blonde, football player, for about a month. Though he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, he was handsome and popular, and fun in bed. One evening, close to the end of term, I swung by his apartment to see if he wanted to go and grab something to eat. I was surprised when Doug's roommate, Warren, answered the door. He was hardly ever home.

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