Your erotic stories

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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"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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My wife Maggie and her friend Cheryl had decided to get tickets for the "The Nutcracker Ballet" that was going to be preformed in the city a couple of hours away from where we live. They bought the tickets about 4 months ahead of the show that was to take place between Christmas and New Years. Cheryl and Maggie had been friends for over 20 years and both had worked hard at keeping there girlish looks. Maggie is about 5'6", 36, 24, 36, and 120lbs with cute C cups and a beautiful round ass.

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It's a fairly common misconception in many schools... boys are better at math, and girls are better with language. When people find out for the first time that I majored in or teach mathematics, many find it exceptional that a woman would have that interest. What's strange, though, is the thought that someone whose main interest is a left-brained activity like math would not be able to do as well with English language arts.

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We'd only lived in the neighbourhood a few weeks, so when I first saw him mowing the lawn as I pulled into the driveway, I thought it might have been my own mistake. But no, I checked the house number, and I saw my wife's car in the other parking spot, so I knew I was in the right place. I shrugged and got out of the car. I reached back in for my briefcase, and then watched the young man mowing our lawn as I walked to the front door.

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I was bartending at a restaurant I work at in a tourist town. One night an attractive couple came in and we enjoyed a nice chat. The womans name was Bridgette, and she had a French accent, very attractive with short, dark hair, a gorgeous smile on her painted lips. Her man, David, was a good looking guy, short curly hair, and a goatee. They were Canadian.

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The wind was already howling. The rain pounded so hard and constant on the windows that it sounded like radio static when Connie decided to finally take the neighbors up on their offer. Hunter and Pilar knew Connie's ex had the kids for the weekend and thought she might want to be with someone to ride out the storm. Connie had planned to curl up with her new Blu-Ray of Gone with the Wind, or if the power went out, a good book.

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The day dragged on and on. Claire watched as the last few minutes ticked away. She had already organized her affairs and was now just waiting until she could go. It was Friday, so the traffic would be horrible, but at least she had a few days off. She longed to be home in her quiet apartment. Eventually, the clock struck five. She walked briskly down to the parking garage and started her car. She hurried and managed to get five minutes down the freeway when she ran into grid locked traffic. She sighed and turned up the music.

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I am one lucky son of a bitch. There. I said it. I have a life any other guy would kill to have. And I have no idea why, except when genes play a role. It certainly isn't because I'm a genius, because I'm not. I'm not the biggest, the fastest, the strongest, or the best athlete. I'm sure as hell not rich. Just lucky. Now, I did mention genes helped out, and I wasn't lying. I mean, I'm pretty average-looking: brown hair, green eyes, thin, six feet tall even, straight teeth.

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My gut tightened as I walked down the line of tents to Sergeant First Class McNundic's green hootch, For a long time I had felt nervous around him. I had no reason to, really – I was a 2nd Lieutenant in the US Army, and he was a noncommissioned officer in my platoon. I had no reason to be nervous around that guy!

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