Your erotic stories

It was my senior year playing women's basketball at a State College. My name is Lindy Clarke and I was one of the starting five. We were a good team, but a little short to excel in the conference playoff tournament--just suburban girls having a good time. We all could dribble, and pass and play defense, but we were outmatched in spite of our athleticism and good coaching.

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Wally and I were roommates in college when I realized who I truly was sexually. Before Wally, I had been with girls. Hell, I liked being with girls a lot and loved eating pussy particularly. Hardly the resume of a gay bottom, but maybe the way I lost myself in the act of giving pleasure to women should have been a tip-off to me somehow. There was something submissive about the way in which their pleasure became my pleasure.

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Dave stepped back to admire his reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. "Not bad," he nodded approvingly as he scrutinised his naked torso, "not bad at all." He stroked his downy chest, sucked in his belly and flexed his arms. Yes, definitely the remnants of a six pack on his abdomen and his biceps were well defined. A little excess weight around the waist maybe but for a man in his forties, with precious little time available to frequent the gym, he looked pretty good.

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My wife, Cheryl, and I are in our mid forties and we have a pretty good sex life. One kink I particularly enjoy is wearing panties. I have been doing this for a few years now and it is with, not only Cheryl's knowledge but, her participation. On most days we wear matching panties and we both really get into it. I still have a few pairs of boxers for when I have to go to the doctor or something but, otherwise, it is panty time. I am not really into to cross dressing, just panties. I love how they feel, especially when Cheryl runs her fingernails along my silk covered balls.

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I don't think I can resist much longer. As I let her into my house, I watch my best friend, Brianna, with barely concealed lust. Her bright blue eyes and long brown hair entice me powerfully. I really, really want to kiss her. I want to see her round breasts, touch them, lick them, and do whatever I can to them.

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We'd only lived in the neighbourhood a few weeks, so when I first saw him mowing the lawn as I pulled into the driveway, I thought it might have been my own mistake. But no, I checked the house number, and I saw my wife's car in the other parking spot, so I knew I was in the right place. I shrugged and got out of the car. I reached back in for my briefcase, and then watched the young man mowing our lawn as I walked to the front door.

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"Damn, maybe this wasn't such a good idea." I said it out loud, standing by myself in the middle of my new apartment's kitchen. Actually, it wasn't so new, and it wasn't really mine, but whatever. I had my doubts in any case. It seemed like a cool idea when my mother's friend offered it: A nice luxury apartment off campus, mine for a quarter while she was away on sabbatical. And it was great in many ways - lots of room, a great pool and workout center, and all the privacy I wanted.

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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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Because the boy pushing the large cement-laden wheelbarrow was exceptionally attractive I'd been delightfully spending every day sitting in the sun. He'd nodded and smiled the first time we made eye contact; assuring me I'd be spending my Summer Break in the garden.

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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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