Your erotic stories

Sitting under the awning next to her truck, Vanille looked down the street and decided that the fair was beginning to wind down. She breathed a sigh of relief both because the long day was over, and because she was going to turn a decent profit from working the small town street fair. Considering her name, she might very well have been destined to sell homemade ice cream from the back of a truck, but it certainly hadn't been her plan.

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It was a fantasy that we had both wanted for a long time, this whole threesome thing. But as it turns out, finding a man-a decent, respectful, sane man for a one time threesome with two women isn't the easiest thing in the world. Pete was our 15th attempt at this. The other 14 included underage kids, a few frat boys, and one very married man with a very crazy wife who followed him and harassed us for weeks after.

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It was eight o'clock in the morning as I puttered around in the kitchen. The sun was already up and it promised to be another beautiful August day. But, this wasn't just any day. Today was our twenty-eighth wedding anniversary. Could that possibly be true? Just thinking about the number made me shake my head in wonder. I still thought of myself in the same way that I always had. However, a quick glance in the mirror was more than enough to remind me that I no longer resembled that young, thin twenty year old that had walked down that aisle so long ago.

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For Talina, college was a blast. However, some classes were a flat-out bore. Professor Dougherty's early morning Anthropology 101 defined boring. The subject matter could be dry and the professor had a terrible presentation style. She spoke in a monotone and her bland presentation of facts was often accompanied by slide after uninteresting slide. The sole appeal of the class was that virtually everyone could get a "B" with minimal effort.

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I was butt naked when I met the girl of my dreams. Yet, that was not the most unusual circumstance of that improbable introduction. She was naked as well on that fateful day, as were the twenty or thirty other people in the area. It just goes to show that there is some wisdom in the old Boy Scouts' motto: Be prepared.

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It truly was a day to remember. I stepped out onto my pool deck that Saturday afternoon, aiming to bring the water up to the proper level and check the chemical balance. Three neighborhood couples would be at our home that evening to share my locally-famous smoked ribs. I wanted the pool to be crystal clear in case we decided to swim too.

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I had a really shitty day. My secretary quit, to move to Texas with her new boyfriend. Somebody clipped my brand new Porsche in the parking garage, denting the hell out of the passenger side door and both fenders. One of my clients, the Avengers, tore up the hotel they were staying in. And Ozzie Schmuck, the drummer for Snakepit, got busted for coke and can't make the Australia tour.

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I rested my neck on the edge of the bathtub and stretched my limbs, luxuriating in the warmth of the foamy water. I surveyed the unfamiliar opulence of my surroundings and sighed with satisfaction. I had learnt on my arrival at the resort hotel in Maui where I was to stay that my confirmed reservation had been deleted by a mysterious glitch in their system and that no rooms were available. Either my panic stricken face or more probably the fact that I am a claims agent for a major marine insurance company persuaded the management to get rid of the problem by upgrading me to a beach side cottage.

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Alison got out of her car and took a breath. She was tingling with excitement. Tonight was Beltane and she was going to be initiated into the "adults only" branch of her coven. Alison had been raised in a pagan Goddess worshiping tradition by her mother. She and her sister had attended rituals since they were children. However, there was a big difference between dancing around a maypole and what was going to happen tonight.

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You have a better chance of appreciating this story if you have a large closet full of dresses that were carefully chosen to look professional and a small drawer of lace and silk originally intended for your husband alone. If you're a man who wants me to swallow a big load of cum by the second paragraph, then you'll get along with my husband; but you'll have to look elsewhere for a story. Even in my husband's stories, I never seem to get laid by another man (or women) until the bottom of the first page or the top of the second.

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