Your erotic stories

Rules were very important to her. Rules about eating. Rules about time management. Rules about messing around. She'd lived her whole life by her rules, and it kept her happy. It'd been awhile since she'd had anyone else play by her rules though; she was getting frisky. That's why she'd texted him, "Are you in town this weekend?" He knew her rules. He liked her rules, and right now he was the only man she knew who could satiate her desires.

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It was midwinter, and my best friend and I decided to take a weekend trip to my family's cabin in the mountains with our significant others. It was a long weekend, and none of us had Friday classes, so we figured if we took off on Thursday afternoon we could get back on Monday night. Thus, none of us would miss any classes, and we would have a cozy, romantic weekend full of cross country skiing, snowmobiling, and, of course, lots of sex on the bear skin rug in front of the fire.

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Peter and I were had been in LA for a couple of days, staying in a cheap hotel in Venice. Mostly we hung out on the beach, which is where we met Nola, Lara and Val. They were about my age and all very cute. Nola was a white, tall brunette and had a kind of wicked attitude about her. Lara was short — about my height — with beautiful auburn hair. Val was somewhere in the middle, and a California blond.

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The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums.

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For those of you not familiar with the British 'pastime' of 'Dogging' let me explain that it involves numbers of people meeting up in secluded public carparks for sexual frolics. It's become a bit of a cultural cliché over here, with the tabloid image of seedy loners and old slappers getting down and dirty in dreary locations in the dead of night.

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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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Introduction Sandie had just turned eighteen a month ago but she was so tiny – barely 5' 1" – and with such a pixy face, that she could have passed for 12 or thirteen. Adding to the image of youth was her long sleek black hair, which hung straight to her waist. Whenever I saw her lounging by their pool in her one-piece bathing suit over our neighbouring fence, I swore she had no breasts to speak of.

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We had just gotten married and this is the story of our honeymoon trip. We traveled from a small town in Wisconsin just north of Madison to New York City for a week of fun and games. It was in a room at the Marriott Marquis that first night I introduced Susan to sex. At first, she was a little hesitant but she quickly developed a love of fucking.

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The headline act was about to take the stage but I couldn't wait; I was desperate for a pee and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I was in serious danger of wetting myself. I made my excuses to my friends and hobbled across the crowded field towards the portaloos, thrusting my hands between my legs to prevent an accident.

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My affair with Stevie; if that's what you want to call it is still going on today. It's not an affair in the conventional sense as there is absolutely no chance that he would ever buy me flowers or take me to a French Restaurant. Nor would I want him to. We are as he quaintly calls it – 'fuck-buddies'. We still occasionally go to the derelict factory on a Friday afternoon and the odd evening after work.

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