Your erotic stories

I love to flirt. I love the attention of men. When we were young, my husband hated when I drew the attention of other males. Secure in our relationship after all these years, he has actually come to enjoy it. We have our steamiest sex when the topic of an added male is introduced. For the most part my flirting has been just harmless fun.

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Even with the sun low in the evening sky, it was stifling hot. Jeff wondered why his Mom insisted on jogging in weather like this. The few times he had asked, her answer was always the same: "Because I don't want to look old." At eighteen, Jeff somewhat understood. Still, why put yourself through that, he thought to himself. Was it that important to a thirty eight year old woman to look ten years younger?

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It was a dark, stormy night. The rain was coming down in moderate amounts but the unrelenting wind made it seem as if it were raining much harder. Lightning flashed brightly every few moments and a sharp crackling sound of thunder followed immediately. Car alarms went off due to the intensity of the storm, and the lights from the street lamps did little to brighten the dark neighborhood.

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My name is Dr. Matthew Dorhring. Samantha's father and I met almost 25 years ago while working as teaching assistants at the same institution where I am now a tenured professor. A few years ago, I took a sabbatical from the university during which I traveled and lived in different parts of the world and had missed seeing Samantha develop from child to adolescent. It wasn't until just before Samantha's high school graduation that I moved back to the states, and for the first time saw how beautifully she had grown and transitioned from a gangly adolescent into a nubile, sexy young woman, eager for life and new experiences.

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After sneaking up the stairs, Bob's heartbeat surged. It was 2am. In spite of his adrenaline rush, Bob crept down the hall like a thief in the night. The house was quiet. Although Bob knew the women were sleeping soundly in their beds, he was prepared to retreat if he heard an errant sound. Even though he could wait until another night, he doubted his wife would interrupt his scheme because she was out cold in their bedroom at the end of hall.

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Jordan was being tortured. It was the day before Valentine's and Glen was torturing her with her gift. He wasn't torturing her with intrigue and suspense. On the contrary, she knew exactly what she was getting. She had known for a long time, and he had purchased it a long time ago. It arrived a full two weeks before Valentine's Day. But rather than give it to her, he taunted her with it. He constantly flaunted it in front of her but wouldn't let her have it.

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The image of the girl was burned on his mind as he stepped outside the hall. The band was taking its final bow, and fit though he was, his muscles were well-used from the dancing. His friends had gone home early in a taxi, very drunk, but he'd stayed on, caught in the whirl of the ceilidh. The girl had been in a couple of sets he'd danced, and something in her eyes as she'd wheeched by had arrested him. He just wanted her, deep primal need. Knew it wasn't appropriate, she'd been the schoolpal of his friends' daughter.

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Erica was still sobbing as she walked up to the police station. It was night time and dark. She must have passed out on Mr Appleby's floor after they raped her. And maybe Mr Appleby and his son had left her there. Because, when she woke up, they were nowhere to be seen. She felt angry and hurt. Erica realized that Peter didn't want to take her on a date at all. No. He wanted her to meet his father. They probably planned the whole thing.

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Lewis Shanklin was frustrated. It had been a year since his wife walked out on him and he hadn't had good sex since. He hadn't exactly had good sex with his ex-wife, but at least it was a regular supply of pussy without having to go through the charade of wining and dining a woman who might or might not put out. And his situation was worse still. He was in his mid-40s now and he wasn't as fit as he'd been in his 20's.

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I was fortunate when I was younger, and as a result, I never had to worry about money. When my uncle died, he left me and my siblings a sizeable sum, but nothing that was suddenly life changing, for example compared to winning multi millions in a lottery. I still have to work, but will never have to worry about money, either, as long I am sensible. I never brag that I have it. Sure, I have some nice clothes, and a new car every 3-4 years, but I've still developed a career in sales, a career in which I am pretty successful, earning a sensible salary.

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