Your erotic stories

It was supposed to be her night. It was her birthday on Friday, and it was a long hard week at work for Rose. All she asked for was a nice dinner, some dancing, and then to be brought home and tended to. She even made arrangement for the kids to go to her sisters, so he could take the entire weekend to please her.

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I've known Sarah for nearly 20 years. We "met" online back when the Internet was in its infancy. A time when you had to pay 29 cents to send an e-mail. We were both married then, and had a mutual interest in a certain female singer, which helped our friendship blossom. This was back in the days of cassettes and other memorabilia being swapped and I'm sure that she enjoyed getting little packages from across the country like I did.

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I squinted into bush and idly my hand rubbed my neck, feeling the dampness there. Gosh hard to believe winter is scarcely over here in the bush. It sure was a hot day, I thought as I looked up at a blue sky with a few wispy white clouds in it. Still hot as it was I had been glad to be in the field rather than the classroom today~! I watched the students as they walked through the bush. They had come a long way. One of the few female rangers had learned the hard way that the bush is tough stuff.

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Rebecca was excited. Today was going to be one of her special days. She'd been building up to it or a couple of weeks now, and no matter how she struggled against her perverted desires no matter how much she tried to suppress the depravity of her craving, Rebecca knew that eventually she would weaken and give in. Her sexual urges appalled her in the immediate aftermath of one of her soirees and Rebecca would analyse her actions constantly in the days that followed, but inevitably that analysis would leave Rebecca in a fugue of self loathing and disgust at her own conduct.

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In my experience it is more men than women who are into peeing. But in my case it was quite the opposite -- I never fantasized about it and if you had asked me I would have been disgusted. Here is how that changed. Firstly let me tell you something about myself. My name is Peter and I'm 35. This happened when I was 30. I'm 5'11, with dark hair and a muscular body.

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"Can you bring me a roll of toilet paper please?" I get a roll from the hall closet and bring it into you in the bathroom. The sight before me makes me stop in my tracks. You're not sitting on the toilet, but instead, on one of those camping toilets, which is basically a toilet seat on four legs. Your pants are pulled down and bunched up just below your knees, which allows you to spread your legs apart.

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Turning off I17 onto the road to Oak Creek, I spotted the renowned red rock buttes and cliffs to the west. The two lane asphalt road weaved up, down, and around low hills. Each time the road dipped into a low spot, the red hills disappeared, only to rise again, more majestic with each cycle of drop and climb of the road.

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Secrets are one of the things that I love about being married. Some of the best secrets that my wife and I share with each other are, of course sexual ones, and that makes them special. I guess we're both pretty average looking and no one would ever guess that we are as intensely sexual about some things. And that includes some of our closest friends.

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I'd been in the same building before but this was different. I had been called to do some actual work for the volunteer bureau but had also been severely warned by my wife, the co-ordinator, that this client may be difficult.

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You have to understand this: despite my lover's sexuality and beauty, she tends to hide her light under a bushel in public. She rarely wants her physical appearance to be the center of attention. It's a long story as to why this is so, and perhaps that's a story for another time. Suffice it to say that she reminds me of a line from the movie, Moulin Rouge:

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