Your erotic stories

Stanley Montrieth III rushed into my office, "Oh my God, I did it. I actually did it. I shagged all these beauties in a pool on my own desert island!" His curly, ginger hair was more unruly than usual and his face was flushed with excitement and exhilaration. I knew, he'd been working on something exciting and it looked like he was ready to tell me at long last.

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Sam knew. "Who?" was all he asked. I didn't have to ask what he meant. "My new partner." Department regulations strictly prohibited fraternization between fellow officers. Fuck your partner, and you're not going to put your head out there in front. You have to think, not lust, or you end up dead. Toll collecting's a dangerous business these days, what with anarchy only a hair's breadth away.

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Derek leaned against the metal railing as his grey eyes passed over the crowded cafeteria. With the entire population wearing the same uniform he had to focus on faces in order to differentiate each inmate.

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One of the hardest things for me to deal with in my relationship, after a year and a half of being together, is that I'm not the only one she thinks about when she's laying in bed at night. That sometimes, when she's alone, reaching down beneath the sheets to play between her legs, that it's not always me in her mind. Breathing so hard, trying to be quiet while the muscles tighten in her legs, arching her back to the waves of orgasm quaking her lower body and clenching her asshole tight with pleasure, biting her lip to keep from screaming someone else's name.

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I had been married for three years when the events I am about to relate started to unfold. I should tell you about myself – stuff I had never revealed before included. Twenty eight years old, heterosexual, (though not homophobic) I have always – or at least since I had my first hard-on – been prey to a range of fantasies, some of which I think are abnormal. (though what, pray, is 'normal?')

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Bernardo was a Spanish bandit. And right now he was a Spanish bandit in the possession of a very beautiful and rich young noble lady. Even more pleasing, the young noble woman was at the moment on her knees in front of him, pleading to keep her maidenhead so that she would still be untouched upon her release. Such release would come tonight when her family left the money in the place that he had denoted. Whenever it came to these young innocent women he could always find such pleasure in the multitude of things that they had to offer him.

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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.

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1 Alexis Haley had blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes and fascinating lips that always seemed to be frowning. She was a graduate student at Priapis State University where I was finishing my bachelor's in psychology. I had met her two years ago when I first switched my major from English to Psych. She had ignored me, which wasn't surprising. I'd had a tendency to blend in and she was a hot, snooty senior who was about to graduate with honors.

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The girls had been out into town for a few drinks and had come back to Charlie's house, opening a bottle of wine on their return and chatting till the early hours. They knew each other through a friend and had been on many nights out together over the past 8 years. They were both in their 20's with curvaceous bodies. Charlotte, Charlie to her friends, was tall and blonde, whilst Jane was small and had an exotic look about her. But however different their appearances were they had similar minds when it came to sex.

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Today was different. Today she wasn't going to. She watched her husband's steel-gray Jaguar pull slowly down the driveway. The summer sunlight glinted off the hubcaps as it backed into the street, reversed, and was gone. She supposed she had better clear away the breakfast dishes. Or maybe she'd take a break and read a magazine. Something to pass the time, anyway.

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