Your erotic stories

I was tired and worn out from a month of traveling. I'm a contract engineer and a very successful one but that comes at a price. I am never home. I move from job to job, contract to contract and there is always travel involved. I shouldn't complain because the money is good, very good. But the down side is that I am single and destined to remain so. I've had many girlfriends but after a few months they move on because I'm never around.

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Jan and I had been to this club on a few occasions but were still new to the swinging scene and clubs of this nature, so we were nervous but excited. The night had been billed as a casino night with lots of references to Ian Fleming's Bond and all the trappings associated with 007. So we dressed accordingly; I myself in full tuxedo and Jan in her high heels, full length double side split super-low cut evening dress and only sheer black hold-ups underneath.

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Sometimes I wonder if other people have strange but ultimately harmless things that turn them on. I mean, we all have the things that we like to have done to us, things that get us hot. It seems for guys that pretty much all you have to do is look at them and they get rock hard.

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For those of you not familiar with the British 'pastime' of 'Dogging' let me explain that it involves numbers of people meeting up in secluded public carparks for sexual frolics. It's become a bit of a cultural cliché over here, with the tabloid image of seedy loners and old slappers getting down and dirty in dreary locations in the dead of night.

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Naked forms, barely visible, played in the shadows around Darkling Prince. He strode through the town, and laughed at the mortals cowering inside. Halloween, Samhain, whatever they called it in this time, in this place, was when evil spirits roamed the worlds. Darkling roamed, as evil as he needed to be. Far off in the fields, a bonfire raged. Hm, time for some fun, then.

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Kerri poured herself another glass of wine. She tilted the bottle up, all the way up until the last red drop fell into her cup. She sighed and took another deep swig, feeling the acid of the cheap wine burning her throat slightly on the way down. She had been sitting in the Pisa airport for nearly 24 hours. The train system, in fact, all travel systems in Italy, was perpetually running late.

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