Your erotic stories

Oh god, I was so horny. I was watching dirty movies whenever I wasn't at school, I was masturbating for hours every night. I'd sit in the lecture hall, twirling a shiny, jet-black curl of hair, eyes not registering my pathology professor droning away. While my classmates scribbled notes furiously on either side of me, I would be concocting daydreams filled with big cocks, silk sheets, and the wild animal humping. I had been fantasizing about sex so much I was hardly paying any attention to my ten classes.

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Whenever I need to come, I just have to think back to those busy few days on the set, when both J and V touched my life in a most special way. That had been when I worked in the Industry as a sort of creative script consultant – a job I set up to both enhance the actor’s methoding, and therefore cut down on the studio’s worries. I was a sort of go-between, acting as interface between Director and producers on one side, and of course all the actors on the other.

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My wife Joan is 62 years old. She is a doctor and a dancer; her lifelong devotion to the art has kept her slim and strong, with great vitality, despite thinning skin, age spots and thickening around the middle. I am passionately drawn to her, find her very attractive, love her with a depth I never knew was possible, and want to fuck her often. (All you young people out there, just because we're old it doesn't mean we're dead.

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Valerie stared out the kitchen window at her neighbour across the alley. She'd met Patrick when he'd moved in, and while he had been polite, they hadn't maintained any contact more than a smile and wave if their paths crossed. But she'd been up close to him and that face had stuck in her memory. He was so pretty.

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Joan looked up at the clock. It seemed to have stopped at 3:28, but that was probably just her imagination. Her watch also said 3:28. Mind you, she'd been pretty sure for a while that her watch had stopped too. Maybe both of them had stopped. Time seemed to have been doing funny things to Joan all day. At some points, it had been going by unpleasantly quickly, sneaking past her when she wasn't paying attention.

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Could I really be doing this? I'm following some guy at a garage to the back room - seriously, the back room - where he is no doubt going to fuck my brains out. I'm watching his muscular ass ripple in his tight jeans, and I'm already unzipping my leather jacket. It was barely holding me in to begin with, and since I don't seem to be wearing anything underneath it, I'm already bouncing free by the time that my surprise lover opens the stock room door. We slip in, I slam the door closed with my foot, and he reaches for me.

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I watch you sleeping; your steady breathing is comforting as I see your chest rise and fall. It's Christmas morning and I know soon our house will be full of the sights and sounds of Christmas. I smile as you murmur in your sleep, turning your face towards me. I lean forward; cupping your jaw I run my thumb across your bottom lip, feeling your breath puff out against my hand. I feel the ache low in my belly; I'm so desperate to get one moment with you before the madness starts.

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I was panting pretty hard, just waiting for the orgasm to hit. The bullet was pressed hard against my clit, and I was watching a hard bodied man with a very big dick pound a nubile young blond on the screen. This usually didn't take too long, but it was starting to take long enough to frustrate me. I pushed the bullet in a bit harder and leaned my head back, just enjoying the sounds of the two people in the video going at it.

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For years, my husband, Noah, has been asking me for anal sex. Each time he asks, I giggle and say, "Not tonight sweetheart, but maybe sometime." Each time, I see the longing in his eyes as he accepts the rejection and snuggles in behind me, wrapping his big, strong arms around me and drifts off to sleep. It has been about 1.5 years since the last time he asked me, due in large part to me getting pregnant and the birth on our twins, and I'm beginning to wonder if he has given up any hope or conquering my ass.

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Jennifer and Derrick rode in the cab holding hands. She had been living in the city since graduating from college just over a year ago and, in that time, had not had much of a social life as she put her energy into writing for a regional magazine. On occasion she dated but most of those had been setups by well meaning friends. She had been in only two serious relationships, both back in college, but that seemed forever ago.

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