Your erotic stories

Brad sat on the floor in his darkened room. Across the narrow side yard that separated their houses, the sheer curtains in Ann's room were not quite closed, and the light in her room made them almost transparent. Brad waited, patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded, as Ann stepped out of her bathroom, toweling her short brown hair dry. Naked, she walked across the room and stopped in front of her dresser. Brad reached down and began gently stroking his penis.

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Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.

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It was early afternoon, and it had been a quiet day. I had gotten a few things from the shops and done some things in the garden. Staff party tonight. Christ, I can't be arsed. All that brown nosing. I'll have to stand with the boss, and he won't be listening to a word I say. He'll just be leering at my wife, Jane. She copes well with it, but I know she hates it. We're both in our late thirties now. There was a time in our 20s it would have been funny. We would have laughed about it. But now? He's a lecherous old man in his mid-fifties and it's just sad and very annoying.

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The beginning of this story occurred at least a dozen years ago when I worked for a former employer and would travel to various cities on business. These business trips occurred quite often and would vary from overnight stays to a week in duration. One of these cities was St. Louis and the stays were usually three to five days long. Clients and vendors would usually wine and dine me most nights but eventually I needed some time to myself, so I started begging off at least one night during each visit.

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"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you." The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks.

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line.

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I arrived at my flat at 7-00a.m. on Monday morning, thankful I had finished my final night shift of ten. Four days before I returned to work, I was determined, not a single hour would be wasted. I picked up my mail behind my front door and shuffled through them. A letter from my Solicitor got my immediate attention. After ripping open the envelope, I punched the air the letter contained my decree absolute.

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I've always fantasized about viewing a movie in an adult theater just to see if the rumors are true. I fantasize about being approached by multiple men, horny with lust for anonymous sex with me. Men wanting to ravage me, cum in and on me, raw sex, nothing but. I know it sounds sick, nasty and perverted, I don't really give a damn . It's my fantasy. It isn't like I'd ever really do it but the thought of it makes me wet.

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We first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where we were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While Steve and I first remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, I made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. We shared a knowing smile, both well aware of our common appreciation for such goodies.

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Well, I keep wondering how I got myself into this situation. I'm 53 years old and I have a beautiful 26 year old woman under me, just about to have an earth shattering orgasm. Maybe I should start at the beginning. As far as Amy goes, I have known her since she was born. Her parents were friends of my parents. She was one of those OOPS babies. You know, a wild New Years Eve party, then on the way home some sexy talk and a little touchy feely so by the time you get to the front door your ripping your clothes off and finding the first soft surface to flop down on and get to the real business.

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