Your erotic stories

After my long and dull meeting ended I was eager to get away from the clichéd business speak and settle into a quiet bar stool for a slow gin and tonic. Maybe chase it with a beer. I took a walk several blocks from the convention center in hopes of not bumping into anyone I'd know and found a quaint little establishment that seemed perfect for what I was looking for. The lights were down low, the music not deafeningly loud and a cute bartender to boot. Perfect.

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After a signature and a handshake, I escorted my newest client to the door. It was easily the biggest account I'd ever landed. My team and I had a lot of work ahead of us to make sure they were happy. It was our first state-wide campaign, and a steal from a competitor. If we pulled it off, it could mean big things for the company.

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Claire knew it was three-forty. She knew because she had just checked the clock a few seconds ago, but she looked anyway. It was three-forty. She had already closed what she'd been working on, so she opened a couple of spreadsheets to clutter the screen. She picked a paperclip - a fancy one with a red no-slip plastic coating - from the magnetic dispenser to the right of her phone and un-bent it to an approximation of straight.

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I met Jamie in a hotel bar while on vacation in Cancun. She was in her mid twenties and dressed in all black. She had several tattoos and piercing which is normally not my type but she was hot as hell. Her dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She had dark brown eyes with long thick lashes, a pierced nose, a pierced eyebrow and a pierced tongue. Her black tee shirt was tight and revealed firm b cup tits and a flat tummy which had a pierced naval.

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Understanding Kelsey -- I don't suppose a lot of this story will make sense to you unless you can understand my relationship with her. And I don't suppose even that will help unless you understand me. I am cute. I walk by and guys will give a nod, you know the kind, a quick scan for large firm breasts or a glance when I pass them to check out my ass.

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I'd never seen a real one. Certainly not up close. I'd thought about it but not in 15 years. My sophomore year in college I got stuck with a new roommate when my friend Ed dropped out of school unexpectedly over the summer. Terry was an okay guy. He was nice, well manners and extremely neat but we literally had nothing in common.

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Liz sighed, watching an especially amorous young couple who had obviously forgotten they were on a public beach. He was gorgeous, and as much as Liz would have liked to live vicariously through the redhead he was pawing for a few minutes, she blew her whistle anyway. The pair looked more than a little embarrassed when they finally realized after the second tweet that the whistle was meant for them.

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I was invited to a party that was being given by a friend of a friend. I had never met the guy, but my friend said he knew every chick in town. Being nineteen and not that sexually experienced, that sounded good to me. He told me to just meet him there and gave me the address.

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Joseph Roswell was an ordinary boy. He wasn't a jock, the valedictorian, or the cool kid who had the best parties after the football game. He had wanted to be an astronaut or a millionaire or a famous singer when he was little, but he would never be those things.

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It started out as a fantasy. I'd stumbled across a website that provided an in-depth and intriguing view on the psychology of cuckolding. Originally a 'cuckold' was a man with an unfaithful wife. It was a scornful epithet back in the day. But more recently, it's evolved into a fetish - a fetish often practiced by intellectuals and those looking for more than just the physical parts of being in a relationship.

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