Your erotic stories

It was the Friday afternoon, before the Holiday Weekend, and I was driving the car to the ‘Biker Rally’ and ‘Rock Festival’, when I realised that I had a ‘slow puncture’. My husband, Craig, had set off earlier, on his new Honda 750. My mobile phone couldn’t receive a signal, so all I could do was sit by the side of the road; smoke a cigarette and wait for help.

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'Should I send him a picture of my ass or my tits?' Kayla thought to herself. She stood and looked to the mirror on the wall between the dorm room beds. She admired her own body, grabbing her breasts over her spaghetti strap top. Chris was definitely a tits guy.

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Mike had been happily married to Marie for about 10 years. He was very much in love with her, and had always been faithful. In fact, only 2 things were weaknesses for him in any fashion at all: panties, and Marie's younger sister Annie. Mike had developed a fetish for panties as a teen, when he masturbated for the very first time with a satin pair that was taken from a friend's sister.

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A single sunbeam slipped between the curtains and illuminated the crumpled sheets on the bed. The fabric shifted slightly as one of the occupants moved. "Happy Birthday," Fiona cooed as she lay on her side, looking at Frank. "Thank you," Frank replied. Fiona slipped out of bed. Frank could see the silhouette of her body as she stepped into the sunbeam and it passed through her translucent sleepwear. He watched her walk to the closet and retrieved a neatly wrapped box with a red bow on top of it. She brought it back to the bed and offered it to him.

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For as long as I can remember, I've always had a thing for panties. Not wearing them. Seeing them, smelling them, touching them. And, of course, coming on them. I'm almost always turned on when I see a girl's panties. With the current trend of low-slung jeans and pants, my eyes are always on the lookout for a girl whose panties or thong is in view.

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He picked up the envelope, knowing what it contained and struggling to figure out how to justify its existence at the front counter to his friends. "Hmmm, this must be the fax I was waiting for at the office yesterday, " he said, "shit, I may have to do some work tonight." His friends groaned, rolling their eyes, commenting on his inability to have fun even while on vacation. He smiled.

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I moaned loudly as the phone's ringing refused to stop. I rolled twice toward the sound, tossing blankets to the side as I did, and reached up to grab the phone. "Hmmmm?" I voiced into the receiver. "Ms. Calista Holiday?" a deep voice asked. "Yes," I responded. "This is Aidan Conner. I must regretfully inform you of the death of your great-aunt, Faye Michaels." The man's vaguely familiar accent registered, but his words didn't.

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She smelled, uhm...fresh! Her scent perfectly matched the floral top she was wearing that afternoon. I just realized that she liked floral dresses and has worn several of them before. Oops...my mind was drifting. I'm right in the middle of a meeting! Alysa Park and I have been in a meeting all afternoon. I was sitting next to her at the client's boardroom and couldn't help but notice that she seemed a bit pale and not her usual bubbly self.

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Viv and Harv Robinson's anniversary fell on a Sunday. To celebrate the quarter-century of their legally coupling in the eyes of the state and God, Viv had the bright idea of spicing up their perfunctory conjugal interlude that she knew Harv would engage in only as a token courtesy to her (or else face the silent deep freeze for the next six months).

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You couldn't forget Crystal. Beautiful, tall, with long black hair, dark green eyes and a full mouth that was usually laughing at something or someone, and always painted with a startling red lipstick. Her full tits clamoured for your attention, invariably only just contained by the fabric of some immaculate designer outfit, worn with high black boots with higher heels. But the most memorable thing among the many things about Crystal was what you saw when she walked away - her broad and glorious arse.

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