Your erotic stories

How do I get myself into these things? Because I'm a sucker for men who beg, that's how. Look on my forehead, see the big "S"? It magically appears whenever a man gets down on his knees, clasps his hands together, and says "Please, please, oh pretty please?" It must be some sort of motherly instinct. I never had any kids, and I always thought I transferred my need for raising children to my dogs.

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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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The weather was warming up, spring was in the air, Ellen and I decided to take more time off and spend more days together. Our sex life really picked up after the episode in Philadelphia (See Ellen's Weekend). The events of that weekend left a lasting impression on Ellen and I. Not only was it our first 'group' interaction, but it also left us wondering where to take that experience. One thing was certain; we were both downsizing our work schedules and spending more time together.

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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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My wife, Brandie, and I hadn't had any kinky sexual fun in quite awhile, so one night not long ago, we decided to go out to a local bar, not our normal swingers club, and see if we could have some FUN! Brandie, was just over 55 at the time, but could easily pass for 40ish. She wore a white button up blouse with a plunging neckline that showed off the top of her lacy white push-up bra, and all of her chest and cleavage.

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After that little Halloween incident with my gynecologist, Dr. Markus DeShade and his band of kinky cohorts, he has been exceptionally nice to me. So has his wife Evelyn, although I think her interest is more on the Sapphic side. Tall, good-looking women tend to become attracted to me, as was the case with my German friend, Eva Reichman (see Cat's Discovery).

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Jocelyn's sets on Suicide Girls were always the hottest and most anticipated when they main the site's main page. She was a spritely little thing, skinny as a twig with pale, creamy skin. Her hair was dyed the same color as a fire engine, her puppy dog eyes milk chocolate. Her septum piercing matched the snakebite gauges in her lips. Her flat tummy and bubble butt were two of her favorite features about her body.

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It started on a mate's stag night/bachelor party, - whatever you know a bloke's traditional booze-up before his wedding as. A crowd of us hit the town, crawled the bars and eventually ended up at a lapdancing club, ahem, as you do. . . A good time was had by all, plenty of dances were bought, and the general agreement was what goes on the stag, stays on the stag.

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I had set up my tent in a campsite in the national forest between Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. As I relaxed with my coffee I became fully aware of what a beautiful setting I had. My little bluff put me above the shrubs and I had a clear view of Jackson Lake and The Grand Tetons behind it. I could see the reflection of the mountains on the waters. I saw a bald eagle soaring over the lake.

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I'm with a wonderful man, a man who encourages me to explore my sexuality and be proud of my body and my naughty, naughty imagination. I thought I was uninhibited before I met him, but he keeps pushing me to new levels of exhibitionism and experimentation, and I love him for it.

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