Your erotic stories

When I was 25, I lived alone in a one bedroom apartment in a rather large apartment complex with 1, 2, and 3 bedroom units. I had moved there after breaking up with a long-time girlfriend, and was enjoying being a single, independent adult for the first time in my life. One Saturday night, I had decided to stay at home, mainly because I had just paid the rent, and my cash flow situation was not very good at the time.

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Anyways, so I was at work finishing up some end of the day shit after everyone else had gone home for the day. For whatever reason my mind started to drift to my happy places and gradually I became more aroused and less concerned with work. After a few minutes of daydreaming about a beautiful set of ass cheeks spread before me, I decided to sit back and pull out my cock.

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I'm astride my husband and he's pounding me with his pulsing hard cock, bottoming out inside my cunt, his hands gripping my hips and his tongue lapping at my swaying tits. Luna's behind me, fingering my ass with one hand while fondling hubby's balls with the other. Husband grunts like a bull and slaps my ass, pulls my hair and pinches my nipples, as Luna starts licking my thighs and lower back like a dog. Just as she prepares to lick my ass I reach for my vibrator, and in an instant I recall how I arrived here.

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There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to stop and say to herself, "Where am I now? Where am I going? How did I get here?" And then there are times that those are pretty darn dumb questions. Where am I now? I'm bent over the leading edge of a table. My hands are tied together and the nylon stocking used for that is looped over something on the far side. My stocking toes are barely able to touch the floor and I'm quite stretched out with my bottom in the air.

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Was it true? Did it really happen? Everyone always wants to know, don't they? It makes it hotter, doesn't it, to know that it really happened. I guess because they think if it actually happened to someone then it could happen to them, too. Well, it can. That's all I'm gonna say about my last story. It can happen to you, too, if you want it to happen.

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At 30, the peak of my female hormones screaming at me to do something with them other than finger my softest parts, I found myself still alone. I was afraid I wasn't beautiful enough, yet every time I looked in the mirror (other than on fat days) I thought I looked pretty good. Sexy, even. Long dark hair, pretty eyes, and a nice (though not perfect) line of curves that complimented the mild tan of my skin.

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I walked home in the glaring sun as sprinklers tinkled on the lawns of our neighbours and sweat seeped slowly into my clothes. I wiped my brow and held the straps of my backpack, beneath which the thin material of my school shirt was nearly saturated. The temperature had risen steadily over the past week and the heat wave was now at its peak.

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Ellen and I have been so busy raising our children and meeting our responsibilities that we somehow managed to avoid spending time together for about ten years. We grew distant, but still loved each other. In fact, I have always lusted after my wife. When we were dating, Ellen had a wild side. We made love in cars, on beaches, and in the woods; where a hiker once caught us. I remember it well because Ellen was on top of me and just told the guy to move along as if he had found us picnicking.

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