Your erotic stories

Jennifer was at a total loss. She felt as if the dreams in her life were falling into little pieces and she was unable to pick them up and put them back together. After 2 years of dating and 3 years of marriage nothing was working out how she planed. She still remembered all the nights spent before her wedding in bed with Michael when they whispered words of love and plans of a future together. Those nights were most often the ones after they had made love and she still had the wetness of him inside her.

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My fiancé said, "Kate, you have to promise me you won't look in this one box. Promise?" I laughed and held up my hand like taking an oath. "I promise, sir!" "Mr. Zankov, you keep her honest for me until I get home. In fact, here." Our new landlord helped carry some out belongings from the car to our 3rd floor apartment. He took the brown box from John while saying, "Da, Da! Your secret safe. Segei too promise."

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The following story is fictitious, of an explicit and adult nature. This story is not meant to be viewed by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, offended by adult material or such material is barred by the standards of your community, please leave this page now.

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Caroline and I had been together, on-and-off, for a little over 2 years. She was lovely. Warm, funny, loving and hot as hell. At 5'4", she was not tall, but had a nice figure--sweet ass and shapely legs--coupled with a pretty face, long auburn hair, and a knockout smile. She was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with; I just hadn't got round to asking her that question yet.

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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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My eyes popped open as I heard the sound of a key working its way into the lock of my front door. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before glancing over at the clock on the wall. "2:52," I muttered, slightly frustrated. I had expected Ashley to come home hours ago, and had apparently dozed off while waiting up for her to return.

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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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Work's done for the week, I'm showered, and I'm heading to my usual Friday night haunt. As I walk in I'm greeted with a smile from Tanya. By looking at Her You wouldn't think She works in a porn shop and supervises the theaters and booths out back, too. I have found out over time that She has a kinky core.

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I was young, naïve, and in love. That is my excuse for my current situation. I have always heard that love can make you do strange things, but I never thought it would happen to me. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

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I feel that you reach a certain stage in your life when you feel like, and need, a change. I suppose that is what happened to us. Sally and I had both reached our late forties and our children had flown the nest and left home for college. Our life was reasonably content, we loved each other, we had a nice house and both had good professional jobs which paid well.

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