Your erotic stories

It's early morning and you are still sound asleep. I awake with a tingling in my pussy and look over at you lying there, naked, on your stomach. It seems a shame to disturb you but I have such a desire in me that I have no choice. I look at your manly form, the soft sunlight outlining your back you're deep in slumber still looking so vulnerable and sweet.

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"So, bet you didn't expect the night to turn out like this." Jessica smiled at me wickedly, "On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you that you met me today?" "Yeah, that would be a fucking 11." "Thought so." She shook her head. "And look at you, eating one girl's ass out then going home with her roommate to eat her ass, too. You know, if you were a girl, people would call you a slut."

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I met Melinda while working at a bank during college. She was very, very hot. She had the classic Italian look, dark hair framing an olive oil complexion and big soft lips that were built for sucking cock. She was skinny with curves in all the right places and had nice round breasts to complete the package. Needless to say I was attracted to her right from the get go and was very pleasantly surprised when I discovered the attraction was mutual. We began to see each other frequently, and the sex was hot.

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Sometimes me and Mike just love to go out, pick up a slut or a stud, or a couple of them, and have ourselves nasty threesomes or foursomes. Lately we've really been getting off on picking up guys, especially since about a year ago I got my husband to start messing around with bi guys, even a few gay guys, bringing out Mike's 'bi' side, which I soon discovered was a big part of him.

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I guess I should have realized that something like this would happen eventually. I was always made fun of in school for having a "girly" build. At only five foot 4 inches I'm not particularly tall. I have slim shoulders, thin arms and legs and my hips are probably more shapely than most guy's. I didn't exactly help things by keeping my blonde hair shoulder length. I told everyone it was because I liked metal music. Most of all though, I apparently have a nice ass.

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It's a beautiful day at the Jersey shore. I'm lounging at the rail overlooking the beach watching the eye candy wander by. Beautiful young women pass me, an endless parade of taut young bodies at the peak of desirability. A blond teenager, no more than 17 struts past me on the boardwalk, her firm young ass barely covered by a tiny pink bikini. On the beach another young lovely stands and stretches, presenting her full round breasts and flat tummy to anyone who cares to look. It's an endless cornucopia of flesh. Tonight I will be fucking one of these girls.

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I met Nicole at a party. It was still early in the night, and she was standing alone, untouched drink in her hand. To my surprise, no guys were lining up to hit on this very attractive girl in a classic black cocktail party dress, but she definitely was giving a stand-offish vibe - she was obviously uncomfortable, waiting for a friend to come back. I was pretty much in the same situation, so I decided to use that to break the ice.

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My wife Anna and I enjoy a fairly wild sex life. We have been married for almost ten years and the sex has continued to be exciting. She knows what turns me on and thrives on it. I know that every so often she is going to surprise me with some sexual play that is out of the ordinary from what I hear other guys talk about with their women.

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I'm lying in bed mid-afternoon daydreaming trying to catch forty winks after a gruelling nightshift, almost deliriously tired but still can't seem to drift off to sleep. I feel wired, buzzed, but I can't quite put my finger on why. I try putting my finger downstairs to relieve some tension but even orgasmic release seems to be just beyond me at the moment. It's just then, with one hand down my panties and one playing with my breast that I hear a knock on the door.

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“Come closer.” She stood by the doorway, teetering slightly on the outsoles of her heels. Peering towards the corner, she made out the silhouette sitting casually in the leather sofa in the corner. Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the light, but the shaggy mane and the scent of clean musk were enough to tell her he had managed, yet again, to enter her home. She knew it was pointless to ask how. More important was why.

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