Your erotic stories

It was Saturday evening and I was getting changed to go out to dinner with Nick. I had just taken off my tank top to change into a blouse when Nick came up and kissed me. It was one of those long sensuous kisses that I love so much. While I was concentrating on the kiss, he quickly cuffed my wrists before I knew what was happening.

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"Remember, sex onstage is illegal. This isn't fucking Amsterdam. You can jerk yourself off a little, play with the other guys' cocks, but if you cum, it's all over. Got it? No blowing your load. No oral. No penetration of any kind. Not that the other guys'd let you—they're professionals and a lot of them're straight. Got it?"

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A year ago, I was searching through the real estate section of the newspaper with mounting despair. Amber and I had been looking for a house that we could turn into a home ever since we'd been married. While we were relatively well off, we simply couldn't afford the sort of house we wanted where we needed it to be. As an on-call emergency manager at a chemical plant, I have to be able to get to work within thirty minutes of a call.

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About me (for those who don't know me) My name is Catriona. You may have read about me on this site before. I'm a successful businesswoman, in my thirties, and my professional career could keep me fully occupied, if I allowed it to. Because of my inordinately high sex drive, however, I choose to place strict limits on the amount of time that I spend on work and related matters.

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She knew she shouldn't be out. It was late, nearly midnight already. The full moon glowed high in the sky, illuminating the path in front of her in the hazy shades of silver and blue~fae light she'd always heard it called. She sighed and moved gracefully along the path. She knew it so well now, traveled it as often as she could, as often as nature allowed.

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My alarm. I slapped the thing, sent it flying. Later, I'd be amazed the thing still worked. I hate alarm clocks. I sat up on the side of my bed and adjusted my nightie. One of my nipples was peeking out. Five years ago, I'd have played with it, teased it for its indiscretion. Hell, five years ago, I probably wouldn't have worn the nightie. And I still would have played with it.

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I do wonder though, sometimes, how I think of myself, it's a pleasant sort of curiousness. Am I a gay man who has a girlfriend? A straight man who has been with other men? As more one way than the other? As someone who declines to identify that firmly? Adjectives, not nouns.

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I looked on in disbelief as my beautiful demure wife of twelve years was on her back with her legs spread wide open and another man was plunging in and out of her pussy. She had a hold of her ankles so that he had full access to her. She also had her lips wrapped around another man's cock and was sucking it at the same time. The man punishing her pussy with his huge cock was ready to explode.

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Hi! It's me Diana Johnson again. You know, the tiny woman married to that big hunk Bob. Well, some of the readers of my first story (the one which started in the Kitchen) have asked me to write a bit more about our adventures. When I think about it, there is quite a bit to report, and some things moved in a direction I would never have guessed. You may recall that Mum had given me some of the delicate little dresses she made and wore when she was a teenager in the 1960's and 70's.

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I didn't get home until after 6AM. I'd been working with a buddy of mine all night as a temp at his job at a warehouse to pick up some extra cash, but I'd expected to be home by 2AM at the latest. And I'd started that job after getting off my regular job, meaning I'd been up and working for almost 24 hours straight.

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