Your erotic stories

The engine ticked lightly, rhythmically, having only recently completed a twenty mile journey. Rain dripped from the frame of the car, from the edges of its bumpers. The windows were blurred, save for the two arches where the wipers had recently swept drops from the tempered glass. The car didn't belong there. Not in that parking lot. Not in that town.

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One Saturday afternoon in September 2004, Dan was lying on his couch watching college football when his phone rang. A friend of his from work was on the other end. "Dan, this is Scott, what's up?" "Just watching the end of the USC game. What are you doing?" "I've been in the office all day and need to meet Lauren for dinner at 8 or so. Wanna grab a few drinks with me before." "Mmm, sure. I'm supposed to meet a few friends later. Mind if I have 'em meet us?"

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"Okay Heather if you want to be like that, fuck you! I'm not gonna stand here and take this shit. We're done." "Fuck you back you asshole! You damn right we're done! I want a man that treats me well!" "You mean you want a man that's whipped, that caters to your every idiotic whim, that hands over money because he's your personal ATM. In other words, you want a chump. I'm not a chump, nor that desperate. Besides, you ain't even that good. Goodbye."

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Patrice Mueller couldn't suppress a resigned sigh as she looked around the living room. It wasn't that it was dirty; it was that it looked fine. The whole house looked fine: a tastefully appointed exemplar of a white bread middle class dwelling. It was tidy, warm and cozy without a hint of ostentation.

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It was the biggest fishing trip of the year. Four couples were preparing to spend a week in the woods at a remote lake accessible only by seaplane. The plan was for fishing, just getting away from the city for a while, and communing with nature. Then disaster struck. All at once it seemed, one after the other, for various reasons, all of the other wives dropped out. Given the disastrous news all around, I telephoned my husband, Rick, and suggested that they make it a stag affair and I'd find something to do around here.

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I am a 32 year old woman. My name is Tiffany. I have two school-age kids and have been married since I was 18 years old. Even though I have two kids, I have been told many times that I don't look it and get compliments on my 5'4" 38-24-36 body all the time. This is my story.

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She is at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes from lunch, lost in the reverie of thought, she barely hears the squeak of the front door as it opens and closes in the front room. She feels a soft breath at her back of her neck, next a nibble and a kiss. Attempting to turn around to kiss her husband hello, she is stopped and a blindfold covers her eyes.

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