Your erotic stories

Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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I stood in front of my bedroom door and I struck a pose. I had already received several compliments about the dress I had chosen to wear for our special night. I was glad of that, as it had cost me a week's pay. When I showed it to my date, the smile made it worth every penny. My high heels had invoked a similar reaction, making the hundreds of dollars I spent on those worthwhile. I invested a lot to look good for my date, but the end result would be so worth it.

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Nervous! He asks me if I'm nervous. Of course I'm nervous! Wouldn't you be? "A little, Kevin," I tell my husband. "But you're going to go through with it, right?" "Probably," I admit. If he only knew. I can't wait for this, for the past two weeks I've thought of little else. Affairs are one thing, this will be something altogether different, it seems to me.

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I was beat. The plane had been delayed, the luggage lost and the boarding passengers rude and hoity. The trip was suppose to be a time for getting away, for forgetting about my present life for a little while and fly head first into a week of relaxation, fun and adventure. I had never left the kids and husband for longer than a weekend. I told my husband that one day, when the kids were up there in age, I would be the one leaving for awhile and would be pampering myself because nobody else would. He laughed then and said "sure hon, whatever makes ya happy".

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"George, are you awake?" The drugs had eased the pain, but they made me groggy, too. My eyes opened, and she stood there, looking sad and yet, concerned. "Honey? Did I wake you?" My mouth was dry. I rasped, "No, just resting." She came up closer, by the pillow. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I'm sorry, I'm John's mother, Lorraine. I'm sure you don't remember me."

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I gasped in surprise as I felt the cock force its way into my wet cunt. I knew it was big, but was not expecting it to feel so big. After all, my cunt was not as tight fitting as it used to be when I was younger. I was 57 years old, and had been around the block a bit during my time. I'd been married and divorced 3 times – and to be honest each divorce was my fault entirely – I'd whored myself around quite a bit and acted like a total slag.

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Hi, my name's Ronni Brady, and I'm a feature writer with New York Eye, the internationally renowned humorous news and current affairs magazine. I'm known for my acerbic wit and laconic style. You may have heard of me – I also have a regular newspaper column that's syndicated across the country, and I've been a regular guest on shows like Letterman and the Late Late Show over the years.

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My name is Cynthia and I am a happily married 41 year old. My husband Stephen and I live in a plush house in an exclusive suburb which overlooks Sydney Harbour. He is a marketing manager for a large retail outlet and I help out with the on-line side of the business. I have a more or less rubenesque figure and am very proud of my big natural boobs that have huge round coral pink aureoles.

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On the bus ride home from college Amy was unconsciously teasing as usual. There weren't ever many people on the bus and since I was the only one she knew, we usually ended up sat together in deep discussion about life and experiences. She teased with stories of what her boyfriend Nick liked her to do and all the things that really turned her on, not to mention the fact that now it was summer I couldn't help peeking down the gap in her blouse at her pert breasts and the way her short summer skirt displayed almost all of her athletic thighs; thus leaving me to try and cover the tent being pitched in my trousers.

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Joan, my wife, had taken a summer semester course of golf back in college and for some time now I've urged her to come out with me. I figured we would be able to spend more time together that way. Recently she surprised me by taking golf lessons. She started with our local course's female golf pro, but after only a couple of lessons she came home and told me the woman had left and she was switched to one of the male pros.

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