Your erotic stories

The dance music was loud. The club was packed with sweaty bodies, and Karen was thirsty. She moved past gyrating bodies and through entangled couples. The dance club charged a lot for drinks, so she ordered a bottle of water and retreated to a corner. She sipped it and stared out at the dance floor. Karen was a twenty three year old senior in college, finishing up a Masters in communication.

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I just about keeled over when I walked into the pool on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and saw who this year's lifeguards were. I knew them of course, heck, just last year I'd graduated high school with them and I'd thought I'd never see them again since we'd all headed off in different directions for college! Well, they headed off. I went to the local state University so that I could save some money by living with my parents.

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It was 1959 and I was 19 years old. I had left London and had accepted a position as a junior clerk in a large company in the north of England. I found a small, cheap bed-and-breakfast hotel run by Mrs. Johnson, a friendly motherly type, who made me feel instantly at home. I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks until I found a flat to rent. It was Friday and my first night in the city.

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Brian raised one eyelid and stared at the alarm clock, 5:32 AM. It was Friday, the beginning of his three day weekend. The dog had thumped into his bedroom door, demanding to be taken out for relief. Brian propped up on one arm and cleared the sleep from his eyes. His wife Allison was still beside him, lying on her back, one breast exposed. He took the time to lightly blow on the exposed nipple, then licked it softly, which brought it to a point. She began to stir but the dog thumped again.

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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school.

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"Wahay!" A course Geordie voice shouted as I heard someone wolf-whistle me, "Careful you don't show us your stocking tops; sweetheart!" I had arrived home half an hour earlier after finishing a night shift at the hospital and as I was hanging some washing on the spinner in the garden my nurses' uniform had risen to mid thigh. I turned to scowl at the builders who were working on the new conservatory.

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You go to the fridge, dragging the door open, as the conversation continues loudly behind you. Laughter rings out over the clamor of the television and you draw four cold long-neck beers from the crisper, set them on the small silver tray you were given for your hostess duties this evening, and with a pop-pop-pop-pop the caps are all neatly removed and discarded. You brush down the leather skirt and adjust your corset before entering the living room again.

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My first wife and I stayed together for too many years. There were the signs in the first two years that we had made a mistake. We married young. I had just returned from the first of two tours in Vietnam. She was being driven batty by her mother. We were young, lonely and needed to be needed. In her case, I have always believed she would have been more self confident and self assured if she'd taken that job with the airlines rather than getting married.

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In April 2004 my husband announced that his 25 year old secretary was 6 months pregnant and he was leaving me and our two daughters to be with her. Apparently I'd become boring and had put on weight – no longer the slim nymphomaniac that he had married 21 years previously. To say that I was devastated would be somewhat of an understatement. I thought that I'd been as good a mother and wife as I could be while also holding down a career as an accountant with a pretty large clothing company.

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His Side She was surprised when I walked into the room; she actually jumped a few inches and turned around blushing. I had caught her standing in front of a full length mirror without any clothes. I could see the flush on her face, and the wetness on her fingers told me all that I needed to know. She'd been masturbating!

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