Your erotic stories

We had been invited to a cocktail party at the Croydon Park Hotel in south London as the guests of one of my husband's clients who were celebrating his fortieth birthday. I wore the favoured 'little black dress' for the occasion, a black velvet cocktail dress, very figure hugging and sexy, but sophisticated enough for a semi-formal party. It was open backed and held on with a thin satin lace, criss-crossing all the way up from my lower spine, at the front it was also cut low but under-wired, enhancing my breasts and giving me an impressive cleavage.

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My wife Teri never ceases to turn me on. All I have to do is look at her and I get an instant woody, especially when she's in her nightshirt. I have always been a tit man. Teri's D cups are not only the beautiful work of Mother Nature, but are also of porn star quality, so naturally she had me at "Hello." And her large nipples are "ON" all the time. Due to her conservative sexuality, she wears padded bras every day in order to contain them.

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The ad read, "Wanted! An uninhibited male to help satisfy my wife." I had read the ad with some skepticism. But answer it I did. The next three weeks were filled with e-mail notes back and forth. They were a middle aged Black couple. She had the hots for more than he could give her. She was into almost anything; he was more straight-laced and conservative. When they finally sent the pictures, I was floored. She was knockout, drag down gorgeous. He was just your average run of the mill Joe. That settled it, I was going to get a piece of that.

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"What are you doing?" I asked quietly as I glanced furtively from side to side, making sure no one was looking. The subtle wobble in my voice betrayed my nervousness as his hand rested on my knee just below the end of my shorts. He looked at me and flashed a bright knowing smile. His fingers inched subtly higher and I felt a familiar tingle between my legs. I'd never had a sexual experience with a man before and for most of my life I hadn't even considered it an option but in the previous two years I'd begun to wonder what it might be like.

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I'd flown through Germany a few times in the past but this time I'd decided to actually stopover and have a look around. My flight arrived in Frankfurt mid-afternoon on a Friday and as soon as I got in my hire car I found myself in gridlock traffic. I waded through it as the afternoon settled in and the rain clouds built up. By evening the city gave way to rolling green hills and I was on a motorway heading god knows where.

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One Tuesday morning, Linda Harris, a thirty-five year old mother of two, entered her kitchen with the intention of making herself some breakfast. Filling up the kettle with water, she placed it on the stove and took out her favourite teacup from beside the counter. It was another sunny morning; from here she had a good view of her suburban backyard, seeing her previously washed blankets flutter on the clothesline from where she had hung them. The clock on the kitchen wall announced the time as 8:24PM.

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