Your erotic stories

I've been married to my current husband, Anthony, for just over five years. In a former life I had a boring if not unpleasant sex life; little or no foreplay, no concern for my needs or desires. My former husband pretty much named the time, place and manner and I was expected to give him what he wanted.

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Shrugging into the jacket of his tuxedo, Jacob smiled hearing the chatter of the crowd that had rapidly gathered in the parking lot below him in anticipation of the doors of the club opening. Earlier while making his rounds seeing that everything was ready he shook his head glancing outside seeing the wealth of jewelry that flashed and the vibrant colors of the couture clothing the women were sporting as they clung to the arms of their tuxedo clad gentlemen.

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Ready for some more wild shit? Hey guys, I'm sure you have seen those make your own dildo kits. You know the kind, where you make a mold of your own dick, and use it to make a vibrator so your significant other can fuck themselves with it when you're not around. Well, I'm here to tell you be careful, if you get one of those, the decision might come back to bite you in the ass. Or worse. Here is my second chapter.

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After several weeks of flirting and sharing sexual fantasies on Lit, the Massachusetts lawyer had become obsessed with the sexy young nursing assistant from the deep South. They had shared one of his deepest fantasies, the fantasy of having his ass opened by a strong, firm yet gentle woman. The more they discussed it, the more his urge to live out the fantasy intensified.

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Amanda had gotten all dressed up for nothing. The blind date she had been going to meet was a no show. Dating sucked! The high heels were killing her, she had forgotten to eat lunch, and it looked like dinner was going to be McDonalds on the way home because she sure the hell did not feel like cooking now. She drove toward her apartment.

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Sometimes I get the urge to drive. I have a small SUV and I like it. I bought it for practical reasons but I have discovered that I like the way it drives. This story is about a favorite weekend drive I took this year. I woke up Saturday morning with the urge to drive. Gas had gone all the way down from $3.12 to $2.65 and I had filled up on Friday evening.

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Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.

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On Monday I appeared for work. There I met Denise, the secretary/paralegal who was also Ron's sister. Denise was thirty-five with long brown hair that reached her ass, a curvy figure, impressive chest, and killer legs. Her round wide round face featured large green eyes, a prominent jaw, and a large mouth with full lips.

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