Your erotic stories

1 There is something about heat that only we northern Celts can fully appreciate. I hadn't been abroad since my childhood, and the minute I stepped off the plane I was consumed by a bright heat rising from the Cretan rocks that forced me to slow down and take in the quiet beauty of the place.

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I had just finished a nice dinner and was walking back to the Bed and Breakfast where I was staying. It was still light and there was an orange glow in the west where the sun had set over the Pacific. I thought a glass of wine would be just the thing before turning in. Fortunately, the B&B had some available, honor system of course. That's what I like about them, so friendly, so trusting.

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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've always found chastity to be a really interesting idea. I'd wanted to experience chastity ever since I was teen. But now I was 30 and still hadn't experienced it. Well, I hadn't truly experienced it anyway. I'd bought a CB6000 a couple years ago and had put it on. I enjoyed having it on, but I still had no keyholder.

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Well, here we were, Lia and I, after our first sexual encounter. We were lying there peacefully on her living room floor. Lia had her head on my shoulder as we cuddled one another in the afterglow of the greatest sex I had ever had, the kind of fuck I had barely even dreamed about until now. Then Lia raised herself up, leaning over me, and kissed me softly on the lips.

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"It may be a perverted taste, but I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects ... The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements - lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact, muscular frenzy, the clink of gold - that to peer into it makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!" - Gustav Flaubert

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I was 23 when I met Pat, who was 42 at the time. We were work colleagues and got on really well. Pat had dark hair hanging lustrously loose and a super pair of legs. She wore skirts every day and my gaze often followed her legs and ass around the room at work, or in the bar.

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Karen March 2001 I first encountered Miss Chapman at school. She was the home economics teacher and a guidance teacher too. Teachers tended to view me as a generally intelligent pupil who inexplicably did stupid things to get in trouble occasionally. One such occasion when I was in my second last year resulted in me waiting to be called into Ms Chapman's office for trying to play truant that afternoon.

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It was a hot July day, the sun beating down as if this was the middle of the desert. I decided to use my season pass and go to the amusement park two towns over to cool off. Lakefront Park has its own beach, a water park and of course amusement park rides, games of skill and the holiday junk food you always find at such places. I tossed a towel, a blanket and a bottle of water into a canvas tote, climbed into my van and drove off.

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Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the director of accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voicemail. No one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

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