Your erotic stories

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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Vanessa stood patiently as the maid tugged the straps of her dress tight. She watched in the mirror as the clear vinyl clung to her body, tightly wrapping around her curves. As the last strap was finally adjusted perfectly she turned and examined her reflection.

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OK, I admit it. I have a real fascination for a woman’s ass. Not all asses, but nice pear-shaped ones. If I see a woman walk by, the first place I look is behind. Well, maybe not the first, if she is walking towards me, but I will make an extra effort to look back as she walks past me. First let me tell you a little about myself. I’m 51; about 5 foot 9 inches tall, 175 lbs, graying hair.

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I'm Sam. Or at least I was. I woke up to the sound of an alarm. I'm not sure why I didn't notice at first that something was up, but the only light was a crack in the window curtains and that was on the usual side of my bed. The alarm was a different tone, but my mind was groggy from having just woken up so it didn't register. I sat up, and flicked on the light switch for the lamp to my left. I had to stretch slightly further than usual.

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8===> Discovering a surprise neighbor in the freshman dorm Ben leaned up against the door frame of the entrance to his dorm room and took in all the insanity going on in the hallway. One incoming freshman after another was busy dragging boxes and laptops and stereos and suitcases down the long corridor in search of the specific room that would be their cramped quarters for the next nine months. All the confusion, scurrying around, and bumping into each other was like watching ants at a church picnic.

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