Your erotic stories

1. Wow, so it was really going to be real. My husband Ted had finally gotten that job in California. We were moving out west; in three weeks we would be out of the apartment and out of New York City, driving a Ryder truck across the country, on our way to a whole new life. It still didn't seem quite real. And yet there was so much to take care of, so many loose ends to wrap up.

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Sex with my wife had been as hot as ever since my first massage with Alex. I wouldn't say the experience has directly made our sex life any better or worse but I do feel a more confident. My concern that is would alter my sexuality was unfounded. I still found my wife extremely attractive and arousing. My wife has a great body and I look upon it with lust every time I see her. I was comfortable that I wasn't gay; despite having had what one would have to admit was a gay experience.

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Cathy was shivering as she hurried to her Mustang in the school parking lot. She ignored all the whistles and comments from the students as the cold wind swirled around and blew her skirt up revealing her slim legs and pink panties. After starting the car she put on the heater but it blew nothing but cold air. She wished that she lived in a warmer climate than New Jersey.

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My name is Sharon and I'm 31. I'll be 32 in just under a month. My husband's name is Dave and he's a year older than me. His birthday and my birthday are just two days apart. We have been married for 3 1/2 years and currently do not have any children. Our sex life was pretty good before, having sex quite often. But like so many others, it became routine, and although I usually always had an orgasm, it just wasn't as exciting as it had been.

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It was late summer and the beginning of mine and Christina's senior year. We had both just turned eighteen and we were eager to have fun. She was five seven, Italian, had smallish breasts with dark red nipples. With nipples that were continuously erect and an ass that was more than generous, Christina had men following her around like a bunch of hound dogs chasing a raccoon...

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Mrs. Khanna ran into Mrs. Sorabji as the latter was stepping out of an exclusive shoe store at Nariman Point in Mumbai. "Hi Yasmin," exclaimed Mrs. Khanna," haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" "Very well, thank you. And you?" "Oh, vadhiya ji vadhiya," said Preeti Khanna jovially, then her eyebrows knitted into a frown, "you are a clinical psychologist, right?"

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"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet. I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.

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"Shit! Shitshhitshitshit!" Sarah quietly screamed, looking at the scrape on the back fender where she'd kissed the nearby post of the mall's underground parkade. Tears welled in her eyes. "What am I going to do?" she lamented, beginning to hyperventilate, as she considered her husband's response. She wasn't even supposed to be using his pride and joy, a maroon Carerra 4. She wouldn't have been either, except that her Audi was making weird noises.

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The cleaning girl, Monica, had arrived early on Friday afternoon. "Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens." Monica said. "Please, call me Jennifer." Opening the door to her two thousand square foot home, the tall, statuesque woman smiled at her cleaning girl. The eldest daughter of a neighbor down the street, Monica had grown into an incredibly sexy young woman. Jennifer shut the door behind her and stared dreamily at the young woman, shaking her head slightly.

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I stepped from the shower and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Like most women, I think that my butt is too big, and my breasts too small. My hair is a pleasing shade of brown, thanks to the skills of my hairdresser. The triangle of hair between my legs has telltale streaks of gray. "Fast chance anyone will be seeing THAT anytime soon," I thought to myself. "I guess I could be a hell of a lot worse at 58."

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