Your erotic stories

There wasn't an adult in the land that didn't know what her family did. There wasn't a tabloid editor on Fleet Street that hadn't paid out hard cash for sex tapes containing her or her family. They were notorious; famous almost. Salacious details of the exploits became Internet folklore, the stuff of legend.

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I sat on the couch, the room lit by the flicker of some skin-emax show. There was a tumbler of scotch in my hand; one of far too many for the day, but then, this was our annual vacation with a group of friends at the beach and excessive consumption was practically required. This was the third night though, around 11pm, early by first night standards, but well past the breaking point for most after three days of hard partying in the sun and sand.

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She straddled my legs and leaned forward. Her breasts hung over my stomach. She swayed from side to side and her breasts gently smacked my hardened penis. She stroked my hardness with her nipples. I groaned and moaned my pleasure. Drops of pre-cum fluid formed. She smeared my pre-cum with her nipples, back and forth. "Mmmm I love your slick pre-cum on my nipples, do you? Do you love how it feels? Do you love your slick pre-cum on my hard nipples?"

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This is a fantasy exploration of some of my erotic thoughts. I would love your comments. This story is for adult readers only. Always engage in safe sexual practices. Just another workout...or so I thought. I was working on my bench press and struggling with the second set. I knew I had more in me but I needed a spot to lift the bar off the bench. I looked around the weight room and saw Brian. We had met at the gym, and at that point we were just kind of "hi-how-are-ya" friends.

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The parties that went on at 69 Brentwood Street were legendary. When Luke Prescott received the invitation email by Blackberry during his final year at NYU, he had high expectations. The house was a three-storey brownstone on the Upper East Side, and was being rented by three of the hottest girls in university. Kendra, Lacey and Chloe were commonly referred to around campus as 'The Babes on Brentwood.'

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"What's the matter with you guys? You got lead in your ass? We're never going to win a goddamn thing if you don't pick up your game! Tom was screaming at the football team as they practiced for the upcoming game. His red hair glinted in the bright sunlight so that his head seemed on fire, matching his fiery temper. Most of the team looked sheepishly at me, knowing this was not their day.

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"I don't understand what she sees in him," said Michael, already feeling depressed at the thought of spending an evening with his arch nemesis, Nick. "I know Michael. But... she's been my best friend forever and as long as she's happy, then... what can we do?"

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My beloved Mistress R sat naked on the end of the bed, still slightly wet from her shower. Her legs were pressed together, hiding her delicious pussy from view. I was trembling slightly as I looked at her gorgeous, glistening naked breasts which were right in my line of sight as I knelt on the floor, naked except for the cock ring that was making me agonisingly hard. She placed a finger on my chin and lifted my head to look into her eyes. Her voice was calm, but authoritative.

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Rebecca was excited. Today was going to be one of her special days. She'd been building up to it or a couple of weeks now, and no matter how she struggled against her perverted desires no matter how much she tried to suppress the depravity of her craving, Rebecca knew that eventually she would weaken and give in. Her sexual urges appalled her in the immediate aftermath of one of her soirees and Rebecca would analyse her actions constantly in the days that followed, but inevitably that analysis would leave Rebecca in a fugue of self loathing and disgust at her own conduct.

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"It looks unusually small tonight darling – did you have a sneaky wank when you were in the shower?" I asked my husband, as I climbed into bed, fresh from my own shower, and nuzzled up to him, putting my head on his chest and reaching down to gently feel his turtled manhood between my thumb and forefinger.

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