Your erotic stories

Natalie and I have been living together for the past few months, sharing a flat in a small town in Cumbria. I'd recently come home from university, and decided to stay with my parents for a week or so while I found a place of my own. It so happened that the place I'd chosen was a 2-person flat, and that Natalie was also interested in it, so the landlord paired us off and we had to sort the rest out for ourselves.

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That Friday was remarkable because it wasn't the thirteenth, which might have gone a long way in explaining the unbelievable circumstances that unfolded for all of the participants had it indeed been the thirteenth. No one could have foreseen the eventual outcome, although all would agree in the end that the end result was more than any of them could ever have hoped for.

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1 The door to his room was ajar, but she knocked anyway, because she didn't want to surprise him, especially if he were in some kind of compromising situation. She heard a distant "Come in!", and she closed the door behind her. "I'm back here," she heard next, and walked back to the bedroom in the suite.

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Jason woke up because someone was sucking his cock. Actually, sucking is probably inaccurate. There was a lot of licking and squeezing and stroking going on, but not a whole lot of sucking. Still, it had Jason rock hard and it felt good. The "someone" part of it is more accurate. Jason could tell that the tongue and the lips and the fingertips didn't belong to his business partner and girlfriend Dylan. And that was more than a bit disconcerting.

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Walking up and down the aisles of the grocery store, I hoped I wasn't forgetting everything on the list I'd left hanging on the refrigerator door, like an idiot. I figured I could be forgiven, though, because I couldn't keep my mind off the evening ahead. Tom had promised it would be a night I wouldn't forget for a long, long time, if ever. When he had said this, the look he leveled on me had been blatantly sexual, shocking me because of its unexpectedness. The rest of the night at work had passed in a blur.

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Ever since we'd gotten engaged, I'd been teasing my fiancé, Julie, about how much I was looking forward to my bachelor party and hinting at the wild events that would likely take place. She would usually pout, telling me I didn't need to have one. The thought of me and a few of my friends drinking and watching x-rated movies didn't bother her much, but she was afraid one of them would arrange for a stripper and things would go beyond stripping.

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Father Flanagan slowly woke up as the morning light crept through the bedroom window. His head hurt. He looked around. That's not my dresser, he thought. And this isn't my bed. Where am I? Turning, he saw a woman lying next to him, on her side, facing away from him. She was naked, and had long blonde hair. She looked a lot like his late wife. Then he remembered.

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Looking back, all the signs were there. Rita never wanted sex anymore. That alone didn't alarm me, given our sex life had never been vigorous. Then she started paying more attention to her appearance after years of neglect. Throw in the prolonged absences without sound explanations.

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He was sitting on the couch opposite me, wearing only a T-Shirt and trunks. Beer in his hand, champagne in mine, we were talking about anything that mattered and everything that didn't. We were just enjoying relaxing together, having a laugh. As I was listening to him tell me one of his funny stories I placed my feet on the couch beside him. I ran my hands along my legs till I reached the top of my knee high stiletto boots.

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I always play it to him as though I don't really like anal sex... that it's only something I do for him. It couldn't be further from the truth, even though I'm still a nice girl. We were going away for the weekend. Peter needed to represent a client at a conference in Chicago, and though he only had to attend daytime meetings on Saturday, we booked the overnight in order to get reasonable fares on flights. We were making a mini-holiday out of it.

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