Your erotic stories

Trixie lurched through the door, heels clack-clacking on the laminate flooring as she stumbled. Failing to realise the racket she had just created, she turned and carefully shut the door, just in case her boyfriend, Gary, had gone to bed already. He had let her borrow his keys just case she came home really late, as he had an early start the next morning – a weekend away with the boys.

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Neal wasn't the sort of guy people noticed much. He could walk through a room of people talking—even a room full of people he knew—and get to the other side without being greeted or noticed. He could have conversations with strangers and then the stranger wouldn't recognize him if they met again. He was a guy of no standout talents, no distinctive looks other than being smaller of stature than his age. He wasn't ugly; he was just plain and forgettable—and a little scrawny.

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I heard him pull into the driveway and quickly jumped up to greet him at the door. I was in desperate need to feel him, not just inside of me, but on me as well. I had spent the better half of my afternoon preparing myself for him to come home. I decided I would stay in my attire of that day's errand running, just jeans and a black spaghetti strap tank top.

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I walked thorough the lobby of the hotel, wondering if the fact that I was a complete slut and slave to your every whim was apparent to all who saw me. Did it show through my casual clothing and downcast eyes? The concierge has sneered at me and tried to look down my blouse when I asked for the other key to your room.

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Brooke felt the excitement coursing through her body and if she had the time she would've headed back to see her roommate and would have licked and sucked each other's pussy to get rid of some of the tension. Instead she was on her way to get a new car and since the new college semester was coming up soon this was something she had to do today.

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The sun is setting on this Friday marking the end of a work day and work week. I watch the dynamically shifting color change while my car speeds along the two-lane highway. Although your email lacked specific details, I grabbed my backpack and jumped in the car anyway the sheer thrill of a weekend with you sets me in motion.

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July in the sun drenched Mediterranean party island of Ibiza was hot as hell and bursting with energy. I had been soaking up the sun with my best mate Colleen for just 48 hours and we were still really only just finding our feet and know where the crowds and decent bars were.

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Was it true? Did it really happen? Everyone always wants to know, don't they? It makes it hotter, doesn't it, to know that it really happened. I guess because they think if it actually happened to someone then it could happen to them, too. Well, it can. That's all I'm gonna say about my last story. It can happen to you, too, if you want it to happen.

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My wife had not been sleeping lately, I knew something was on her mind, I knew in her own time she would eventually come around and discuss it with me. What caused the change? I did not know, I could only associate it to a weekend away about two months ago. She had traveled to Cape Cod alone to take a weekend class, upon her return I noticed something was different.

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My husband was out of town. Again. Sometimes I felt like a single Mom, raising my two kids without a husband present. He made great money, but sometimes I felt like he travelled so much that I didn't have a partner. In addition, when he was home he seemed distracted, too busy catching up on his own life to pay much attention to me. Rather than his absence making our sex life or our hearts grow fonder, it seemed to be doing the opposite.

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