Your erotic stories

"My ass is virgin," Eden had told me on our first date. A simple statement, quite out of place for an average date. A statement that might have meant "but you can fuck my cunt all you want, I'm a slut" or "I'm saving it for the right guy - is that you?" Or both? I certainly took it as a challenge, because I was ready to be somebody's Mr. Right, and I had a bit of a soft spot for sluts. I had married one, after all.

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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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Everything started when I met this guy who went by the name of Special-S. We both posted on the same bodybuilding message board. I myself was not huge into body building. I have more of a slender runner's type of body. I did occasionally lift weights though and I liked to check this board to read about supplements and also post in the general off topic discussions.

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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 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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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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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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"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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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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