Your erotic stories

Hi, my name's Ronni Brady, and I'm a feature writer with New York Eye, the internationally renowned humorous news and current affairs magazine. I'm known for my acerbic wit and laconic style. You may have heard of me – I also have a regular newspaper column that's syndicated across the country, and I've been a regular guest on shows like Letterman and the Late Late Show over the years.

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"You okay?" I wiped a tear that was streaming down my face before turning toward the voice behind me. It was Jennifer who sat in the desk next to me at work. "I'm fine." I said. "You don't look fine." "It's my boyfriend. I found out he was seeing someone else and I just called him to tell him it's over. That's all."

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I. I could feel the heat of his shaft inside; its sultry shivering mass filling me up - I could feel a steady warmth spreading from it, and the skin of my spine responding with atomic quivers. I almost begged for the moment to last just a few moments more; but did not complain when it moved onwards.

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I went through my mid-life crisis recently, but instead of buying a Porsche or a 800 inch flat screen TV or fucking my twenty-two year old secretary (although it was tempting) Instead I decided to get back in shape. I was an athlete in high school and college, but in my thirties work, family and neglect have added a few more pounds than I was proud to admit.

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It's Friday morning - "Casual Friday" at the office. I'm walking along with a friend when I see her coming toward me in the hall. As usual, I'm curious to see how she will react to me, and as we approach one another, I can tell this will include the usual awkwardness. I'm slightly behind Gina, my friend, who speaks first, a pleasant, "Hi, Deborah!" that draws a smile and a "Hi" in return. But then she notices me, and the reaction is clear.

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This is the follow on from "In the Beginning". Thank you for the kind comments. Please remember this is a true story. The weeks that followed our first, brief meeting in the car park were filled with frantic sexual contact between Rob and I. I recall lying totally naked on my bed and stroking myself until I came all over my chest and stomach as he told me over the phone of his desire to be inside my mouth.

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I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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"Now you've got yourself into a bind." I snorted softly. It was a very unladylike sound, but at the moment, the only thing I could think about was what would happen next. Had he really read between the lines of all of our Emails? The online chats? The late night phone calls? Maybe I should have been more subtle. That's what all the magazines said, right? Guys needed to be told what to do.

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For some time Dwight had told me that when the time came, when I'd reached eighteen, and if I was still interested, he'd take me to the Candy Shop for the first time. I tried to tell him that he would be candy enough for me, but Dwight was an honorable man. That's the only reason why we ever needed to discuss the Candy Shop at all.

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If you told me a couple of years ago that I'd one day be having sex with a man, I would have laughed in your face. I'm straight. I've always been straight. I was married for eight years and have always loved dating women. I love women, the way they look, the way they smell and the way that they feel. I love to eat pussy and always will.

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