Your erotic stories

Hotel and motel rooms always seem to hold a certain special atmosphere about them: an almost indescribable, but no less undeniable aura of sex. The kinds of sex that permeate these plastic, manicured, temporary lodgings varies as widely as the colours of the spectrum: there is forbidden sex, illicit sex, bad sex, mediocre sex, good sex, great sex, amazing sex, marital sex, extra-marital sex, awkward sex, first-time sex, last-time sex, grudge sex, gentle sex, drunken sex, unwilling sex, ravaging sex, guilt sex, revenge sex, straight sex, gay sex, thrill sex, kinky sex, make-up sex, rough sex, farewell sex, and base, raw, lustful sex.

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I sat in the lounge, swirling my gin & tonic, absently tapping a finger to the piped music. Nothing about this trip had lined up as it should have: a week in Florence, now on my second day in Rome, with nothing to show for it. My backers would not be pleased, but I was not concerned with their disapproval. I'm too much of a professional to place anything above my own standards.

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Prelude: "I'll be back in about half an hour, Rod is here if you need anything." I knew Erin's comment was meant more for her husband. Rod had suffered a stroke two years previous, and although he could get around, I had come to learn in the several weeks I worked for them he managed little more than pressing the garage door opener so I could get at their gardening tools. This summer I decided I would do what I loved for a change. We needed extra cash to pull ourselves out of debt, and I had done the shit jobs already, including overnight paper deliveries and scrubbing toilets.

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Let me tell you, Jack, I had one hell of a shitty day today, although it really started some time ago. I could tell there was something wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something amiss. For the last several months my wife, Lynn, seemed to be growing more distant toward me. Sex with her was almost to the point of nonexistent. In those rare times we did have sex, it was as though she couldn't wait 'till it was over. It was to the point that sex became unpleasant, damn near work.

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What I'm about to relate happened last week. In a sense it was the result of a dare, sort of. Let me explain. I made a new friend recently who I'll call Jean. Jean and I hit it off right away; we are so much alike, it's scary. Although we differ somewhat in age -- I'm fifty-something, she's thirty-something -- it turns out we both share a wild and naughty aspect to our personalities ... and, we both love cock.

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I left work and walked across the car park to the small massage therapist's room that was attached to the end of our building. After a stressful day at work, with customers and bosses yelling at me and demanding attention I felt drained, tired and tense. I popped my head around the door and saw Gail sitting at reception, a book of pencilled figures in her hands, glasses perched on her nose. She was in her early 40's, not unattractive for her age and slim, standing at about chin height. She had shoulder length blond her and a friendly and open face.

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Lorna had reached the point of 'enough is enough'. She was sitting on the bathroom stool with her body covered in sweat, not from the rather mediocre climax she had just given herself, but from the effort she had put into trying to enjoy the sex that her husband had just inflicted on her. Derek was a good husband but an abominable lover. He just could not comprehend that filling her cunt with spunk did not automatically generate satisfaction in her, and as far as he was concerned the whole purpose of sex was to simply bring him to climax.

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Sebastian could tell that she was upset, but was not quite sure if he should attempt to console her, or for that matter, exactly how he would go about approaching her with an offer of comfort. He had seen the despondent expression she had been wearing on her face all night and thought that she looked like she might be about to cry when she excused herself from the table and left the banquet hall to go upstairs to her hotel room. He had quickly said goodnight to his dining companions at the next table and followed her to the lobby, not totally sure of what he was intending to do if, and when, he caught up with her.

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Kathy Porter was feeling a really powerful need -- she very much wanted to get her ass fucked by a big, hard cock. Truth be told, she would have preferred to have that cock plowing into her pussy until she climaxed but she was far too worried about getting pregnant to do that. Her controlling husband, who had gotten religion in a big way just a year ago, was adamantly opposed to the use of any kind of artificial birth control, especially including The Pill.

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This was probably not Heather's best day. She had taken the wrong exit on her way into the city and, after passing by closed factories and chemical plants, the "check engine" light came on. Seconds later, the car shuddered and stopped. Fortunately, or so she thought, there was a garage at the end of the dingy street. The mechanic looked at the car and told her the repairs would be at least $1,000 and that they would have the parts the next morning.

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