Your erotic stories

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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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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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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When I hung up the phone, I admit I might have slammed down the receiver in frustration. It was Monday and I had been looking forward to an evening spent in my recliner with a couple beers and some Monday Night Football. Instead, I had just been informed that I had been enlisted by my wife to help entertain another in a seemingly endless stream of consultants brought in to figure out how to make my wife's place of employment hum.

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"I don't understand it," Gem said with growing irritation. She checked her watch for the tenth time in three minutes. "The girls should have been here by now." "Relax, baby," Ron purred in her ear. He had come up behind her as she stood looking out the window, and was now running a hand over her rounded butt cheek through the fabric of the short skirt she was wearing. Gem was five and a half feet tall, with long, honeyed hair, hazel eyes, full breasts and a body well-toned from regular exercise.

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It was nine o'clock and I had just gotten out of the shower when my cell phone rang. I saw that it was my friend, Brent, and answered, "Yo, Kimosabe. What's up?" "Man, get your ass down to the club! I have two freaky ass chicks on the line and I need your help!" Now, the last time Brent called me about his super finds, it was disastrous. So, I was very cautious when I responded, "Dude, I haven't forgotten the last time......." I never got a chance to say any more when he interrupted me.

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She couldn't believe she was here. As Jan's car sped down the highway, she was lost in the world of her own thoughts. Why did she agree to meet a total stranger? How did she let Sandy talk her into this? Did she really intend to have sex with this man she never met? But a quick look at her clothes revealed the intentions she had in her heart.

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The Sunday we met Brian and Belinda was full of apprehension and nerves. What in Gods name were we doing, was this a good thing for a relationship, was it abnormal, were we kinky??? All of those questions and more flew through our minds and emotions. John was in love with me I knew that but the questions still played on my mind. He too was as nervous as a kitten and wondered if we where doing the right thing.

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Sometimes it is so easy to step through that door, the one that separates the realm of the real from the world of the unreal. That door can come disguised as any normal experience or object. Certain times of the year and/or day that door will swing open easier than other times. It seems that Halloween is one of those times that the separation between the visible and invisible is at its thinnest point.

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