Your erotic stories

My affair with Stevie; if that's what you want to call it is still going on today. It's not an affair in the conventional sense as there is absolutely no chance that he would ever buy me flowers or take me to a French Restaurant. Nor would I want him to. We are as he quaintly calls it – 'fuck-buddies'. We still occasionally go to the derelict factory on a Friday afternoon and the odd evening after work.

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Jodie had been recommended to a special clinic by one of her friends when they had shared their sexual problems over a few bottles of wine. She had been a bit reluctant and was nearly put off completely by the high fees, but Abbey had persuaded her that it would be worth every penny if she went with a positive attitude.

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CRACK.........CRACK..........CRACK....... The sound of the paddle hitting against flesh echoes in your bedroom. Again and again, you use the wooden paddle to smack the bare ass of the man lying across your bed. "Do you like that, slave? Do you want more?" "Yes, Mistress, oh yes" "Well, unfortunately, it's time for you to go to work. Maybe if you're good, I'll give you a little more tonight."

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About 3 years ago I had an experience that changed my life. I only regret that it did not happen when I was much younger. I was then a 68 year old woman and had been a widow for 12 years. During this time I had no real relationships and certainly no sexual ones. My name is Victoria. As I live by myself one could imagine that this would be lonely and unsatisfying but I gain enough satisfaction from my work and family who visit me about once a month. I work as a tourist guide in the city.

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After eight years, Paul and I were trying to keep our marriage fresh and romantic and, yes, sexual. So on a Tuesday night in May, I prepared for Paul's return home after work by dressing up in one of the sexy outfits he liked when we fooled around in the bedroom.

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"Welcome to Pierre's. My name is Jan. How may I help you?" These were the first words spoken to me by the extraordinary redheaded clerk at the high end lingerie shop that I had just walked into. She had light accent, but I could not quite place where it was from. It sounded British to me, but could have easily been Irish, Scottish or even Australian.

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Angelica Bowman looked around for her boyfriend, Stewart. She couldn't find him anywhere in the large, sprawling mansion. She wanted to have fun at her company Christmas party, but that wouldn't exactly be easy without her boyfriend to reassure her. She had only been with Markham Industries for a few months and she didn't know most of her co-workers very well. She liked the people she did know, but Angelica tended to keep to herself.

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Valentine's Day was approaching and my husband didn't know what to get me. I had gone through a weight loss and was feeling confident enough to start showing off my body a bit more. His gift to me was handing me the credit card and telling me to go pick out some new lingerie. I could get whatever made me feel sexy. He gave me the name of a small boutique that he had been to and had several things he would like to see me in, but he wouldn't tell me what they were.

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It was Thursday night, ladies' night at the local Sheraton's hotel bar. This was always the happening place in town because the DJ was the best and everyone in the whole city would go there to hang out, drink, and dance. Well, I called several friends and tried to get them to go out with me, but no one wanted to go for various reasons.

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Mary was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to relate. Mary had been my wife for over twenty years, mother of our kids, confidant, no doubt the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was not, I hasten to add, perfect, nor was I, by any means, and we had the usual ups and fortunately few downs. However, one morning, Mary just didn't wake up.

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