Your erotic stories

"Steph?" Sean walked through the front door of the house he shared with his girlfriend as he and his buddies Kyle and Brock walked in the door. All of them were still in uniform since they had been in a hurry to get home and watch the game and had needed to make the necessary pit stops for pizza and beer. Sean had expected Steph to be hanging out in the living room waiting for them to get home but she wasn't there.

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The parties that went on at 69 Brentwood Street were legendary. When Luke Prescott received the invitation email by Blackberry during his final year at NYU, he had high expectations. The house was a three-storey brownstone on the Upper East Side, and was being rented by three of the hottest girls in university. Kendra, Lacey and Chloe were commonly referred to around campus as 'The Babes on Brentwood.'

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"Wow that must have been one of the worst nights out ever," groaned Jack as he stepped back through the front door of his house. "I know I can't believe that no club would let us in," replied his girlfriend Lauren as she followed him through to the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch. "Next time we'll have to make better plans to make a real night of it."

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The bitch shows up behind home plate again. Unbelievable. Second night in a row, she gets in the same seat and tries to fuck me up with her flashes of tit. She quickly yanks down one side of her tank top, flashes her boob, and tries to mess with my head. She doesn't even have great cans. We're not talking about centerfold or top-notch porn material here. More like porn you'd find on the lower shelves, like bottles of cheap vodka in a liquor store.

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It's a fairly common misconception in many schools... boys are better at math, and girls are better with language. When people find out for the first time that I majored in or teach mathematics, many find it exceptional that a woman would have that interest. What's strange, though, is the thought that someone whose main interest is a left-brained activity like math would not be able to do as well with English language arts.

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The orgy began to wind down after that. Most of the guys started to pair up and disappear from the playroom. I decide that 4 loads of cum in my asshole and sucking 5 cocks is probably enough for one night. I say good night to Ken and Alex and try to remember the way to my room. I am still naked at this point, and so I decide to grab my clothes form the other room before I go to bed. As I exit the playroom I see 2 of the applicants standing outside the room.

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Nora. Red-haired, round-bottomed, small-breasted. Thin, lithe and angular. Shaved her pubic hair into patterns, depending on her mood. Tattoo of a treble clef on her ankle. Her relationship before me had been with a woman. After me, she moved in with a couple. Sometimes I led my girlfriends (later, my wife) to the dark side. Nora had a steady table there long before I got to her.

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"Are we nearly there yet? This doesn't look anywhere classy." Clarissa tried to keep the petulance out of her voice. She knew she should be flattered by the stretch-limo and the Dom Perignon, glass number three of which was fizzing its way down her throat, but why the hell were they driving about dingy back-streets?

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"Hard to believe it's only two weeks away." Giving Ben Hickman a noncommittal nod, Bret stared out at the sprawling metropolis just beyond--and below--his eleventh-story office window. The merger had been hard-won--lots of compromising, deal-making, budget-setting--but it was worth it. Dynamic Technologies and Tracer Microsystems.

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My story started several years ago when my best mate Phil and I were out having a quiet drink while our wives, Tina and Laura, were on a hen night. The conversation always turned to sex as we both moaned that we never got enough. Our wives used to take our moaning in good spirit as "typical men's moans." Anyway the conversation this night centred on our drooling over a work colleague of my wife whose legs seemed to go on forever.

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