Your erotic stories

"Have you been to the new club?" Pauline whispered her weekend plans to her friend in the next cubicle at work. "I want to go there, so bad, this weekend. I heard it's awesome. Do you want to go?" Here we go thought Amanda listening to the two airheaded young women discussing what and who they did over the weekend and who and what they want to do next weekend.

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Hi! It's me Diana Johnson again. You know, the tiny woman married to that big hunk Bob. Well, some of the readers of my first story (the one which started in the Kitchen) have asked me to write a bit more about our adventures. When I think about it, there is quite a bit to report, and some things moved in a direction I would never have guessed. You may recall that Mum had given me some of the delicate little dresses she made and wore when she was a teenager in the 1960's and 70's.

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Part 1 - Wakeup call The blonde in the chair frantically blinking at me is the client. We'll call her Wife or Wifey. She's blinking because, like most clients on their first experience, she's panicking early. The blink is her safe "word".

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The next morning after our encounter with my Mum, I rang her from the office. "Oh hallo Diana dear." She said when she heard my voice. "Hi Mum." I said, "I'm ringing from the office." I let that information sink in so that she would know that I'd have to be careful what I said to her. "I'm ringing to see how you are this morning." "I'm fine dear." She said, "In fact I'm more than fine I'm ecstatic! I still can't believe what you two did to me yesterday! You are a pair of naughty buggers!"

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This is a story about unexpected love, about life lived with a blindfold obscuring a glorious reality... Parties are successful sometimes, aren't they? But does everyone look back and say the same thing? To this day I keep telling people – Stephie in particular – that I'm not so sure my party was a great success in itself. But between you and me? Ah, now that's an entirely different story.

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It started on a mate's stag night/bachelor party, - whatever you know a bloke's traditional booze-up before his wedding as. A crowd of us hit the town, crawled the bars and eventually ended up at a lapdancing club, ahem, as you do. . . A good time was had by all, plenty of dances were bought, and the general agreement was what goes on the stag, stays on the stag.

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Chapter One When I met my wife, Susan, she was a sweet, toe headed girl who seems entirely too nice to be in the bar that I frequented with a group of buddies, we were all there for one reason, get laid. I had gone up to speak with her for just one reason, she just seemed out of place. Out of all the freaks and sluts, I'd met there; she was a shining star in the middle of a dark day, a beacon of innocence.

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