Your erotic stories

"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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We were in the middle of a meeting of the Auditorium staff when someone, Bill I think, came up with the idea to have one or more of us show up during an event and actually ask the people watching the event. We had been brain storming to come up with an idea to get people to tell us how to improve the service we were providing for people. One person thought we should change the name from Auditorium to Event Center, and advertise more of the type of events happening there.

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She is dancing with her friends in a club. The crowd is hyped up on the upbeat dance music, their bodies moving silhouettes, writhing rhythmically, bumping, grinding. It's pitch dark except for the intermittent movement of a great many colored strobe lights, the sparkle off the shiny disco ball dispersed across various surfaces in the room. She came here with a group of friends, guys and girls alike, celebrating the start of the weekend after a grueling workweek.

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The night had wound down, and Amy was on her way back home with one man in the front seat next to her - her husband - and another in the back - their friend Sam. Sam was drunk as a skunk - he'd been knocking back Jack and Cokes all night - and her husband was more than a bit buzzed as well, having had about a dozen beers, himself. Amy had been getting high all night on flattery and friskiness - her own and the others around her.

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"Don't be such a prude Thor! Nudity is perfectly natural and doesn't have to be about sex. In fact, they'd be more likely to think of our bodies in a sexual way if we wore G-strings or tight jeans." "Easy for you to say, you're not likely to be ogled as the fresh meat." "For God's sake stop with this nonsense already, Thor. They're NOT interested in your body for sex.

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Her wrists were tied together and secured with her own pantyhose to the headboard. He had left the room, with her kneeling as best she could, legs spread wide, giving him a perfect view of her now glistening pink slit, and more importantly the tight pink rosebud above. He said he wanted her ass. She thought they'd do some ass play for a little while and then he'd forget about it. But for the past two months he was persistent.

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My phone buzzed, a message received. "Are you interested in a special offer, this weekend only? Double bondassage?" A couple of months previously I had enjoyed a bondassage session with Rebecca, and the idea of two goddesses brought an immediate throb to the base of my belly. It turned out that R had a colleague visiting for an expo over the weekend, and some teaching was proposed.

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It was a Saturday night, during the Christmas Break and Sarah and I had nothing to do. I actually had a bit of work to get done at my apartment for my business, but, I had been putting it off to spend more time with her. When she got home that afternoon, she suggested we go out, grab something for dinner and run down to my apartment to get my project done, which she volunteered to help with. I really didn't feel like working, but, if it was an excuse to spend time together, I was in!

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Hot morning sun blistering one side of my cheek, along with the sound of a shrieking bird outside my window as I lay on my bed woke me up. I scrambled to the floor, forgetting for the moment, in my sleepy state, that it was Sunday and I didn't have to go to work. Looking at the clock on the bedside table I saw that it was eight thirty. I felt like going back to bed but habit got the better of me. Growing up, I had heard my late dad on numerous occasions speak on the virtues of early rising, claiming that persons who liked to sleep late got nowhere in life. I usually got up at around 5:45 to 6:00 am to start preparing for work.

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It started out as a fantasy. I'd stumbled across a website that provided an in-depth and intriguing view on the psychology of cuckolding. Originally a 'cuckold' was a man with an unfaithful wife. It was a scornful epithet back in the day. But more recently, it's evolved into a fetish - a fetish often practiced by intellectuals and those looking for more than just the physical parts of being in a relationship.

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