Your erotic stories

I imagine you coming home tonight, surprised how all your snow chores are done. You walk into the house and it's warm, there's a light in the kitchen, and you enter, curious about what you'll find. As you enter I turn around and smile. I've been hard at work at the stove, cooking our diner. You can tell that a soup is bubbling away, perfect for this cold winter night.

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Nancy and I have been friends for years. We decided to take a drive down the coast and go to Newport Beach. It was a beautiful day, the end of the summer, school was back in session and this was our last week before going back to teaching school. As we strolled down the Boardwalk, we stopped to watch a volleyball game. "Look at those pecks on that dark-haired guy, Nancy." "Susie, you're a forty-year old woman. What exactly are you thinking?"

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I can't believe I'm the only guy who loves his wife, fancies his wife and desires his wife so much, he wants someone else to fuck her. Some guys might understand what I'm saying and others might think I'm making excuses for the fact that I can't possibly love her if I have thoughts such as these. The thoughts would have remained fantasies as my wife, Ellie, would never have entertained the thought of going with another man.

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Amanda hummed to herself as she pushed the door open and stepped into her dimly lit apartment. Tossing her backpack on the floor, she let the door swing shut behind her before sliding the deadbolt shut with a satisfying 'clunk'. The blinds were open enough to allow a sufficient amount of moonlight to shine through the lone meager window in her tiny one bedroom basement suite.

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"It may be a perverted taste, but I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects ... The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements - lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact, muscular frenzy, the clink of gold - that to peer into it makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!" - Gustav Flaubert

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I was young, naïve, and in love. That is my excuse for my current situation. I have always heard that love can make you do strange things, but I never thought it would happen to me. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

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I am a punctual person, as a matter of fact, I am more than punctual. On the norm, I would say I am at least 15 to 20 minutes early for every appointment I have. Unless, of course, I am distracted in some way, then I am only 5 to 10 minutes early. Such was the case this afternoon, as I arrived 15 minutes early for my 4pm appointment.

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"Show me," Hannah said, grinning. "What?" Bruce responded. "I said show me, I want to see how big it is." "I've never claimed that its big, just that his is small," Bruce responded, laughing. "I don't care, I want you to show me." "Are you serious?" Bruce asked, feeling his cock stiffen at the thought of getting it out in front of his friend.

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My sexual awakening really began when I finally gave in and revealed to my husband my desire to be submissive. No, not the master/slave scenarios that seem to be so predominant and to my mind borders on abuse. No, not the spank me until I cry and can't sit down for a week activities that would label me a masochist. No, I don't want to be violently raped, even by my own husband in the name of sexual freedom. What I was looking for was to be able to surrender completely to my husband and allow him to have his way with me, over and over again.

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As I begin this account, let me say that it is all written in English even though many of the events transpired in French, the true language of love. A good friend of mine, Amy, runs a series of language immersion programs for college age students and adults. Some of the programs are tours abroad. Others are at a camp in the mountains that Amy leases during the late summer. Amy called to tell me that if I was available, she had a spot for an assistant French instructor.

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