Your erotic stories

Jan and I had been to this club on a few occasions but were still new to the swinging scene and clubs of this nature, so we were nervous but excited. The night had been billed as a casino night with lots of references to Ian Fleming's Bond and all the trappings associated with 007. So we dressed accordingly; I myself in full tuxedo and Jan in her high heels, full length double side split super-low cut evening dress and only sheer black hold-ups underneath.

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Chrissy sipped her drink as Alex kissed down past her ear biting and sucking lightly on her neck. She sighed softly and glanced around. Surely their darkened corner of the bar was anonymous enough for this, she thought. She didn't even protest when his hand reached around and brushed her chest, she just breathed in sharply, caught off guard.

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I'm a 38-year old mother of two children, aged 11 and 6. In 16 years of marriage I had never had an extramarital relationship. But that all changed when I went on holiday to Tenerife a couple of months ago. It's not that I haven't had opportunities over the years. I'm medium height with short curly black hair and a pleasant enough face, nicely shaped larger than average boobs and good legs.

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The stripper twisted her butt right Jake's lap, as if she were waxing his crotch with her cheeks. His eyes were fixed on the tight rotation, while the rest of us watched her bare breasts swaying in time. Twenty minutes ago she had been dressed like a secretary, but now the G-string stretched between her cheeks (and her tip garter and high heels, of course) was all that remained, and pretty soon that would be gone, too.

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Jean and Walt have been best friends to my wife Sharon and me forever. Jean and Sharon first met when they were in fourth grade together; they were best friends all through junior high and high school, and when they graduated, they went to the same college, just so they wouldn't have to be apart. Walt and I met in the dorm at college; we just kind of hit it off with each other, and went from there.

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The packed city club is jumping, the sound of drum and bass pulsates around me, colourful lights flash rhythmically and your eyes follow me as I stalk seductively up to the fully stocked bar. My sequinned skirt glitters as my hips move in time to the dirty baseline, the semi-sheer black body I'm wearing is designed to allow the imagination to wander and my long legs are emphasised by slender stilettos and opaque, black, lace topped stockings.

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My life was not exactly where I wanted it. I am at the financial peak of my life, but my sex life is sadly starved. My name is Elaine and I have a problem, no one wants me sexually. Some men do say they would love to, but they back out when they find out how strong I am. I am a twenty eight year old woman with red hair and blue eyes. I take pride in my body and work out five days a week and do yoga everyday.

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When I took my job with a big tech firm in northern California I met Paul, who had started just a few months earlier. We got to know each other at work, and found we had kids about the same age. As the years went by we often had family BBQs, as well as playing tennis, racquet ball, poker, going sailing, etc. together. Paul was really creative, and after about 10 years quit his job, and moved to southern Calif to start his own company, which has been really successful.

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I'd like to be gay. I really would. Why? Because guys are hornier than gals. It's the way things are. A guy is ready to fuck at the mention of the word. A gal has to be sold on the idea. It isn't fair, of course, but that's the way things are. Unfortunately I like girls. We don't really have a choice. Most guys think girls are just like them. Girls are not like guys! Think about it for a minute. We read about "sexual harassment" and think (that is, most of us think) it means a guy is trying to make some gal uncomfortable by talking to her about sex.

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Katherine stumbled out onto the uneven back stoop, audibly groaning under the weight of the heavy-duty trash bag. It was full of crumbled plaster and strips of wooden lathe and swung ponderously, threatening to pull her over with each uncertain step. As her foot slipped on the sloping stone slab she overcompensated and was forced to let the bag drop with a heavy crunch. Catching herself with a sideways grab at the door frame, she slammed backwards into the peeling paint of the old wood siding.

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