Your erotic stories

I heard the front door open and close, and my wife came barreling into the living room. I barely had time to take in her petite frame, muscular thighs, and small breasts before she grabbed me by the arm, pulled me up from the couch, and dragged me toward the bedroom. She was dripping with sweat — why on earth would a person go for a run in the middle of the day in August? — and as we passed through the bedroom door she said, "I need you to fuck me right now."

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My husband Mike, after claiming that I promised to let him find me another girl to have sex with, went at his self-appointed task with his typical enthusiasm. Amazingly, he managed to succeed. This at least showed me that I wasn't the only one who would do anything he asked. I always thought that he had some sort of power that enabled him to propose the most outlandish things to people and they would actually do them.

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Patterson and I had just ordered a pizza when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID window and looked up as the waitress brought us a pitcher of beer. "Sorry, dude," he said. "I need to take this one. It's Mom." He looked away and lowered his voice as he turned his attention to the call. I tried to pretend I was suddenly interested in the clever "Go Tigers!" declarations hanging on the walls of Sal's Pizza.

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When I was younger my dad got me a summer job working on Saturdays for Mrs Jones. She was a woman who had a property out by the river and my job was to help her do landscaping, cut back trees, lay pavings etc. The property was a bit run down and it was hard work. Mrs Jones was a bit of a hippie. She lived alone and I guess she must have been divorced because she never wore a wedding ring, even though everyone called her Mrs Jones.

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Her name is Donna, and she's a co-worker of mine who I got to know very well over the course of about a year. While I admit that the initial attraction was physical, when you get to be middle aged, there has to be more than that in order to keep your interest. Fortunately for me, Ross Browning, there was more.

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The time was 1995 and the place was a sleepy suburb of Albany, New York. He was a bored man in his mid-40s whose wife had taken off with another guy, leaving him with a house he didn't want and a lot of time on his hands - until he started paying attention to the sights around him.

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"Why aren't you having sex with Trevor?" asked Jen during lunch with her best friend. "If I had a housemate who was: a good looking guy, with a big cock, knew how to use it and liked to eat pussy .... I'd be fucking him two to three times a week. Maybe even two to three times a day on the weekends!" "You're such a slut!" replied Tina, laughing. "Believe me I've thought about it ever since I broke up with Steve two months ago.

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Skyler pulled the truck over to the side of the gravel road and stepped out. He didn't have much of a cell signal to begin with, and he knew it was worse inside the truck. The call went through, and his father answered in a weary voice, "Hello?"

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