Your erotic stories

"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet. I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.

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Saturday night, and you are goin' out! Mothers of Boston hide your sons. Your husband, Steve, is out of town for another conference - this is ten weeks in a row - and your best friend Joanne wants to take you to a local club. She says it's where she goes when she wants to let loose, play a little pool, maybe flirt a bit. (and we KNOW how you like to flirt!) You're wearing your new red short wraparound skit and a white silk blouse, and you look at yourself in the mirror.

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Claudia was enjoying her champagne. Her friends, Marianne and Mark, always knew how to host a party. Their house was perfect for it, as well. There were three cabanas around the pool, each with a king sized pad and gauzy curtains for at least a modicum of privacy. A high fence around the property kept away prying eyes in the very upscale subdivision in Boca Raton.

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She knew what they were up to. She'd seen them watching her from across the room. They were in the booth furthest away from where she was seated at the bar. She had noticed the girl first, a young woman with short blond curls, very attractive. Next to the girl was a guy, somewhere in his mid twenties or so, with brown hair nearly shaved to his scalp.

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After we made love, I laid in bed feeling warm and satisfied and pleasantly sleepy, my bare back against his lean, naked body. My head was cradled against his chest, our legs cozily tangled and his arm resting on my side while his hand gently caressed my hip. He reached down and pulled the covers up to our shoulders and adjusted so our bodies were even closer together.

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Martin sat in the dark of his bedroom and stared out the window into the night. His modest home where he and his wife June had raised their 3 children was quiet now. He could hear June breathing softly in her sleep. The dog rustled and snorted in his sleep but Martin was still awake. He was nearing retirement and the accounting of his retirement capital wasn't looking too good. Though he had worked consistently and hard through his 40+ years of employment, the money just did not seem to stick to his savings account.

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My 19 year-old girlfriend, Kerry, and I had developed the wonderful habit of getting au naturel in the high dunes of a local public beach during a summer home from college. Whilst we were working at our town's holiday camp – a central complex of bars and restaurants surrounded by rental caravans, chalets and mobile homes – we had an encounter in the dunes with two of a girls' netball team who were staying at our camp and playing in a nearby tournament. I wrote of our first encounter last month – see 'The Netball Girls' (Exhibitionist&voy)

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Daisy and Jack had shared their fantasy of bondage and torture. They had already spent a weekend swapping roles as captured spy and torturer. Both had been incredibly aroused by their experience and agreed they wanted to pursue it further. Though both had found the role of sadistic torturer exciting, they agreed to explore the role of spy together first.

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The day was beautiful, the sun taking shelter behind the randomly passing clouds, a slight breeze whispering through the leaves of the trees, and the onset of summer providing a sweet afternoon for a country picnic. There, on blankets, sat the five close friends. College was out for the summer, this was a day to enjoy.

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A young man in jeans and a TransFlyte golf shirt watched the last piece of luggage get picked up from the baggage claim carousel by a middle-aged businessman. He saw the single remaining girl's exasperated expression, even from a distance. When the carousel stopped, she stared at it as if trying to make it move again.

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