Your erotic stories

We'd met several times in our local pub on a Friday night. There were various couples used to come down to listen to the live music, and we'd exchanged a few words and smiles now and again. So we kind of knew them. They were in their forties, a bit younger than me and my wife, but I what most attracted me to them was her gorgeous breasts, and the way she always seemed to show off in tight sweaters and cardigans. Sometimes thick and chunky, other times soft, like angora. But always so sexy!

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It was raining and we still had nine or ten miles to go down the long glen before reaching a road and the dubious chance of a bus. I and two mates were backpacking in the Scottish highlands in our first university vacation. We'd bagged a couple of Munros, slept in a bothy, waded a few rivers and almost run out of food. We were sweaty, footsore and tired.

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I kissed my wife good-bye. Then I watched as the car pulled out of the driveway of our beach rental with her and my sister. I didn't waste time before I pulled on some swim trunks and headed down to the shore. I made my way across the street and up the public access out to the beach. There was nearly no one around as made my way across the sand. It was no wonder, the waves were pounding hard on shore and the water was still too cold for swimming long this early in the season.

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Eighteen months had passed since Jack Trengate and his wife, Sherri had become swingers. First with their long-time friends, Glenn and Wendy then James and Valerie were added, a black couple they met at a party. The three couples met at each other's home once or twice a month and everyone looked forward to the encounters. Jack had long overcome his initial concern of seeing Sherri with other men and looked forward to watching her with Glenn and James.

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I was waiting for Marg to get ready for our much-awaited date with our good friends Nels and Judy. When she did appear I almost choked on my wine. My wife is an attractive woman and I have always enjoyed seeing her prepare for a night out. But this was not the regular Marg. She was wearing a short pull-on dress made of the flimsiest material imaginable. She was not wearing a bra but apparently was wearing a thong.

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A torrent was falling straight down in lazy sheets. It was the heart of rainy season, and Mother Nature showed truth in advertising. I would have just stopped right there on the trail to wait it out had it not been for the fact that it would have resulted in being stuck on an unmapped "road" -to use that term loosely- after sundown. Driving in the dark through the jungle was a good way to get stuck in the mud or, worse still, a flash flood.

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This story's a sequel to Copenhagen Couple and Meetings with Mark. It's not necessary to read those stories first, but some things will make better sense if you do. * At the age of 20 and after my first experiences with male sex I acknowledged to myself that I was bisexual. But I wasn't going to be open about the fact that I liked to be with men. Sadly, bisexual men are often despised by both gay and straight guys, and even by some women.

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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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"You want some help with those, Jane?" Jane looked up from the sink full of suds to where I was standing in the doorway to the front hall. The plate she had just finished scrubbing slipped back into the water as she released it to dry her hands on the apron and motion me over for a hug. "You cooked, I clean," she said after giving me a quick squeeze and a tender kiss, "Isn't that our usual deal?"

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Tom With me being retired and Eileen working part-time in her own business it means we can take advantage of last minute holiday offers if they come our way. Just over a month ago I bumped into an old work colleague who offered me the use of his apartment in the "Food Capital of Ireland" for a long w/e. He said it might be quiet enough but the restaurants were good, the Guinness excellent, the pubs great crack and the golf courses challenging.

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