Your erotic stories

Eighteen months had passed since Jack Trengate and his wife, Sherri had become swingers. First with their long-time friends, Glenn and Wendy then James and Valerie were added, a black couple they met at a party. The three couples met at each other's home once or twice a month and everyone looked forward to the encounters. Jack had long overcome his initial concern of seeing Sherri with other men and looked forward to watching her with Glenn and James.

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It was a quiet afternoon at the office. My last appointment for the day had to cancel at the last minute, and the bosses were all at a convention out of town. Nothing was happening, and although it was a good time to catch up on paperwork, I was tired so I thought I'd get an early start on the weekend. I didn't expect my girlfriend, Paola, to be home when I got there, so I was surprised to hear the television when I walked through the door.

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I was on the bay front finishing the last of my 3 mile run. Feeling like I was getting older at my ripe age of 29, I tried to run at least 3 times a week and also workout 3 times a week. My wife Laura loved the results as my 5'8" frame was very toned and tanned. She also liked me to be clean shaven, so I removed most of my body hair to please her. It was fine except when I was in my running shorts which made me a little self-conscience.

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"Hey I thought we were heading up and out?" Nicole asked. "We just have to check something out girl, something we have been dying to see." said Charlie. Nicole missed the look between the two men, the slight smile and devilish grin on their face. Nicole sat back in the middle seat of the van and let her mind wander, she was tired and just glad to be off her feet.

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CHAPTER ONE He shifted from foot to foot and held a sign reading "Angie Bowman." It was nine a. m. at O'Hara International airport. Finally, passengers were pouring out of the run way, past the counter, and into the walkway. A tall gorgeous brunette wearing her hair in a pony tail and a sexy deep cut V-neck sweater, a matching knee length skirt and four inch hells walked up to him.

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In eighteenth century English society it was even more difficult for a girl to advance above her station than it was for a young man. Without the proper connections and lineage it was almost impossible for even the most attractive of young girls to marry a man who could give her a life of comfort. Seeing no other way around this dilemma, some parents took the grave risk of sending their daughters to India, where the men who survived the climate and the competition were seeking wives as gorgeous as the silks and gems they carried home as spoils. One of these girls was named Fanny Chamberlain.

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I'd gone to the kitchen in Jay's apartment to get myself a sparkling water from the fridge—we couldn't drink what we'd really like to drink during the performance season—when his doorbell rang, and he let his landlord in. I just stayed out of sight in the kitchen, because I knew this was going to be unpleasant and I didn't want the landlord, who I'd heard was a real ass, to get the idea that I'd moved in with Jay after Dalton died. Which I hadn't, and I didn't think there was any chance Jay would let me.

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I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I'd better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth. The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented cocksman I could attract. I had been on open exhibition for months and could have had any woman I'd wanted during that time.

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Ted was in a rush to get back to the apartment and get out of there before Greg got home. He should have taken his time. Greg was there waiting for him. "Trying to get out of the bet, Ted?" Greg taunted. "Of course not," Ted lied. The bet was one of those stupid things the two of them (along with several of their friends) were always setting up. Although the bets were for the most part somewhat stupid, the pay-offs were always seriously moronic.

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Brooke asked if I would write this story. The theme is interracial lesbian domination. All the characters are real. All references to people and photographs are real. I've simply inserted myself into her world. The story ends at my last point of contact with Brooke. There may be more to come.

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