Your erotic stories

My husband and I were in the process of moving out of a tiny apartment in the city and remodelling an old farm house about thirty miles from the beltway. It actually made him closer to work, and neither of us wanted to raise a child while living in an apartment in the middle of the state capitol. We were finally seriously discussing children after being married for eight years.

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My name is Mark and I have a confession. I'm an attractive 35 year old man with a pretty wife and two great little kids. I have a good job, a nice house and what appears from the outside to be a perfectly normal life. But I have a secret...a hot, sexy, naughty, filthy little secret named Lizzy. Lizzy was 19 when this all started (actually she had just turned 20, but that didn't make me feel any better). She was the daughter of Tom, one of my two bosses and a guy that could ruin my life if he ever suspected that I had done anything with his gorgeous daughter.

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I had met a really nice African-American guy named Karl for some hot sex. I was travelling for business and was satisfying my bi desires on these trips. I had met Karl through a gay chat room and we had a great hook-up. We promised to meet up again when I had to visit his city again. (See "My First BBC" for the story of how I hooked up with Karl.) 

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I watched as my wife applied the finishing touches to her lipstick and then turned to me. "Right, I'm ready now, can you give me a lift?" We headed downstairs and out to my car. It was then just a fifteen minute drive to the restaurant where Kim was meeting her boss. She worked as assistant credit controller at an engineering firm and her boss was moving to a new job in Scotland.

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Anne, I am ready for Mrs. Abbott now if you please." I really love my job for the most part. I am responsible for the selection committee for graduate studies at a large Mid-western public university. Admissions is highly competitive, but this was a first for me. We have the phenomenon of "helicopter parents." But that usually ends in the second year of college when the student asserts some individuality.

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She is not classically beautiful. Her face is rather flat with bland cheekbones, her lips do not have the fullness of a true beauty and her nose is rather podgy with slightly flared nostrils. She is though stunning to look at because of her eyes. They are large and delightfully, almond shaped in a deep, onyx green colour.

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I was laying on the moonlit bed of our recently converted spare room, looking out the low window wondering at the changes moonlight makes on the flowers and trees in full bloom in these late days of spring. The window was open letting in the cool, scent filled air. While I missed my children I was enjoying the peace and quiet of being an empty nester, of being young enough to enjoy it. Feeling so calm and at peace I dozed off.

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For the first 44 years of my life, I neither had, nor had considered any sexual liaisons with anyone of the same sex. This was until the following took place: Just to give you an idea of me, I am a tall slim (but not skinny) man, with short brown hair and blue eyes. I was in the car with my wife travelling to a music festival, we were having a row. I won't bore you with what it was about (as it's not particularly relevant) but it was getting quite heated and my wife's driving was becoming more erratic.

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They had a long-running game that they always played. It was called "Trust Me?" The rules were simple, really. They took turns, Stan having total control over Jackie for a weekend, followed by his total submission to Jackie on the following weekend. There was to be nothing that one couldn't do, should he or she desire it. There were no safe words, no refusals allowed. It was to be a sort of affirmation of trust and love each and every week. If one didn't really like what was transpiring, it was to be discussed later, after the weekend was over.

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CHAPTER 1 Early morning sun cut through the mist as lean and white-haired Bill Soper rubbed under an armpit and once again thought will he or won't he? On six consecutive mornings the fit-looking 70-year old had looked impassively at the boatshed on the edge of the estuary and returned inside his cottage that he no longer shared with his wife.

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