Your erotic stories

When a man comes home to his wife and a houseful of women, it's either really good or really bad, especially when the conversation stops as soon as the door opens. And most especially when the women looking at him have those expressions suggesting they know something he doesn't (and of course they do -- it's always that way). His wife stepped forward and walked toward him.

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I typed it in an IM window. 'Come fuck me' it said. Her reply was simple. 'Yes, Master.' How many times had I typed that to her in role-playing chat when I was on the opposite coast of the country? I've even typed that when I was close enough for us to make it happen. I would be there with my laptop in the king-sized bed at my hotel in D.C., messaging her at her home in New York. Close, but far. 'Come fuck me,' I typed. 'Yes, Master,' she replied. Odd how the same words looked different this time -- that was last night.

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It was early afternoon, and it had been a quiet day. I had gotten a few things from the shops and done some things in the garden. Staff party tonight. Christ, I can't be arsed. All that brown nosing. I'll have to stand with the boss, and he won't be listening to a word I say. He'll just be leering at my wife, Jane. She copes well with it, but I know she hates it. We're both in our late thirties now. There was a time in our 20s it would have been funny. We would have laughed about it. But now? He's a lecherous old man in his mid-fifties and it's just sad and very annoying.

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She was sitting at the bar, dressed like a nun compared to the majority of the other women around. It was Vegas, baby, and the outfits ranged from the slutty to the half-naked. The woman I was interested in, and maybe it was the outfit that did it, was all business. Charcoal black suit, white blouse open at the throat, blazer draped over the back of her stool.

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I wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror and leaned close, applying my mascara in the small window I'd made on the glass. The tiny room was full of steam and the smell of shampoo and soap. "How can you take a hot shower in this weather?" I said, capping my mascara and leaning in even closer, scrutinizing my face. I'd had a shower a half hour ago and could already feel a thin film of sweat on my back; it was going to be another boiling hot day.

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Bob answered the door as I approached, opening it wide to the gently lit foyer behind him. "Please come in," he said, beckoning me inside. "We've been expecting you." I thanked him and walked into the spacious home. The lights were low and music was coming from one of the back rooms. "Thanks," I said. I gave him a quick once-over. We had exchanged pictures online and he appeared to be exactly as portrayed; a fit, well dressed, handsome man wearing a sport coat, button-up shirt and what looked like expensive jeans. "I appreciate you taking a chance and opening your home to me."

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Last weekend, I was the emcee at an outdoor music festival. It was a three day affair with lots of great music. The vibe was very cool and while it was no Woodstock '69, it was certainly a great experience. My job was to bring the acts on and off the stage, stick to the schedule and keep the happy vibe going. As the go-between with the acts and the fans, I had the opportunity to make lots of new friends as well as renew old friendships. It was a most enjoyable experience.

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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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Day 1 Saturday "Oh my...God...Sis, is this really happening?" I gasped as the ship slowly chugged out of Southampton harbour on its way to the Mediterranean. "I know what you mean," My younger sister Sam grinned as I hugged me; "this is going to be the best holiday of our lives!" Sam had won an 'All-inclusive Cruise for two' plus £500 spending money, in a magazine competition.

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We first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where we were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While Steve and I first remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, I made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. We shared a knowing smile, both well aware of our common appreciation for such goodies.

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