Your erotic stories

Jenna could not believe what was happening. There she was, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, watching her best friend Lisa going at it with her boyfriend Shane, who also just happened to be Jenna's ex. Unbelievable... The two girls had been the best of friends since they were about 10 or 11 years old, as close as sisters even, and had remained as tight for the next decade or so.

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It was getting late and the party was showing signs of winding down. One by one our guests said their good-byes and took their leave until, by 2 AM, only myself, my husband David, and our best friend Jesse were left sitting at the small bar tucked in the corner of the dining room. The three of us were contemplating the last shimmering red jello shot that remained sitting on the bar. I picked it up and slurped it out of its small plastic cup, savoring the combined flavors of sweet cherry jello and vodka.

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I share a motel room with my best friend and he tries to fuck me while I am sleeping.

I have known Tom forever, we are best friends and we are both married. Our wives get along fine but it is our friendship that is special. Tom is a lanky guy about 6foot 2 190 pounds always has a great tan and blond hair. My mane is Matt I am 5 foot 11 about 225 pounds more muscular than Tom. We are both the same age 39.

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Jenny and Tim were in bed after a long, tiring day of shopping and visiting family. Jenny was wearing a matching pair of blue shorts and camisole, while Tim wore only his boxers Jenny's head was resting on Tim's shoulder as they watched TV. They talked about the day and eventually were telling each other stories from their childhood about various family members.

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James is my best friend. Male best friend, that is. I've known him for years but, while we've always been close, there's never been anything romantic between us. Probably because I've known him so long. It's hard to feel romantic about the boy you kicked in the shins for rigging up a gallows and hanging all your dolls.

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In the spring of 1969 I landed a job as the overnight DJ on a radio station in Seattle. I was the only person in the station during most of my shift and enjoyed talking to listeners who called to request songs or just wanted to talk to someone. One of my regular callers, Kristy, had a pleasant voice and a thing for a particular Linda Ronstadt song. She would call two or three times a week for that song, telling me that she couldn't get to sleep unless she heard it.

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"You want some help with those, Jane?" Jane looked up from the sink full of suds to where I was standing in the doorway to the front hall. The plate she had just finished scrubbing slipped back into the water as she released it to dry her hands on the apron and motion me over for a hug. "You cooked, I clean," she said after giving me a quick squeeze and a tender kiss, "Isn't that our usual deal?"

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