Your erotic stories

Olivia and I had not dated much. And most of that was more about sex, not dating. Our first date was dinner, then back to her place for drinks and, quickly, bed. It was not that I was so great at seducing her. She just seemed as interested in sex as I wanted her to be in my daydreams. If you're thinking that a relationship like that couldn't last, well... well, you're right. But on to the story.

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So, here's a story you perhaps don't hear every day. It's a true story, but it has a couple of layers, so allow me to explain some of the moving parts. I'll try not to ramble too much so we can get to the juicy stuff. My name is Max and this happened to me. Sometimes I still can't believe how it all played out. I work at a small business in the hospitality industry.

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My hand is firm on the back of your neck. The chilly fall rain licks against the panes, as your hard nipples press into the glass of the elevator wall. Your head turns to the side and your ear picks up the sounds of the party below. Your breath fogs the glass as you pant. You try to turn to look back, but I press you forward. This is my show, and the puppet dances only when her string is pulled.

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Let me tell you, Jack, I had one hell of a shitty day today, although it really started some time ago. I could tell there was something wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something amiss. For the last several months my wife, Lynn, seemed to be growing more distant toward me. Sex with her was almost to the point of nonexistent. In those rare times we did have sex, it was as though she couldn't wait 'till it was over. It was to the point that sex became unpleasant, damn near work.

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"Ever wrestle before?" It was an odd question to come out of nowhere from someone I had just barely got to know. I stopped walking and looked down at my skinny frame for a moment, then back to the face of my college schoolmate.

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Summer at last, a day at the beach, you bloody beauty, but hang on, I suppose some sort of intro is necessary I guess – my name is Devlin Watergate, I'm 46, widowed, I have a 22 year old daughter who is the spitting image of her mother, presently overseas working for the Australian High Commission. She comes home occasionally which rather cramps my style a little, but having her home makes up for that.

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Nothing makes you feel quite like a loser then spending your Saturday night trying to impress women, and ending the night at the bar downing drinks with your gay friend. That was my life for nearly a year. I would get dressed up and head to the bar at about 8:00. I tried to talk to the women who came in. I thought I was pleasant.

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Rick knew that his boss was going to be pissed. He had promised her that the report would be on her desk the first thing in the morning, but there had been no way that he could have known that the train would break down. He was almost an hour late as he briskly made his way to her office. He didn't stop to remove his coat and leave it in his office because he didn't have the time.

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For the life of her, Annette could not fathom her boyfriend’s fascination with her asshole. It was another Saturday night; they’d decided to spend it in. Much better to play their naked games than to hang out in a bunch of smoky bars and nightclubs, spending money and not having much fun. Instead, Annette was deliciously nude, leaning over the sofa with her legs spread wide. Her hands were on her hips, holding her asscheeks apart for David’s detailed inspection of her hiney.

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Ever sense I was a little girl I've wondered what it would be like to be a guy, I'm serious I've wanted be like to be a guy, to be precise, I wanted a dick. Don't get me wrong I love being a girl, I love sex, and I've always been very open about sex. I guess some people would call me a slut but I don't care, I love the feel of a hard cock in my pussy or sometimes if I'm really frisky in my ass.

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