Your erotic stories

You stand before me, hands behind your back, awaiting instruction attentively. I gesture in a way you understand. You unhook your bra, slide off your panties and hand them to me. I inhale the warm undergarments, kiss them, then set them aside. I step closer, grip you firmly by your upper arms and lower my head onto your throat, just under your collar.

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Carla has visited my NYC office on many occasions. She is a product manager for one of the lines of formal female dress shoes my stores and consignment partners carry. Once she had a late flight and had to check out by noon from her hotel. I let her put her luggage in my storeroom and offered to make her dinner at my week-day apartment just around the corner. She felt safe with that. I'm twelve years older; we have a working relationship to protect; we had little time before her flight and I had no plans to take advantage of her.

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I couldn't believe I was doing this. No matter what I said to reassure myself, nothing would make me believe that I was ACTUALLY doing this. I had always been the good girl, the one who went without, the one who put others first at her own expense. I had spent so many years bottling up my deepest desires that I almost couldn't remember them. But not anymore. Not this girl. No way, no sir. Technically, I was cheating. The papers weren't even drawn up yet, and here I was, fully contemplating a lusty afternoon chock full of sin.

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'What was I thinking?' Louise thought holding up the red baby doll before her. The idea was a month old, a way of re-kindling her husband's passions for her, of showing her husband that Louise Chester was still a woman at fifty and a sexy one at that. Boudoir photographs, erotic yes, dirty surely not. They had been her best friend Carols idea. Louise had spent the afternoon bitching and moaning about her husband Mike with Carol throwing in her own thoughts before she finally gave her the idea.

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As I approached the house I took a final deep breath in an attempt to steel my nerves. What I was about to do was so new to me, so wicked. I had heard about this house party from a very dear friend, and I knew that the secret longing deep inside of me could wait no longer to come out and play. All of my life I had suppressed the urge to share my body and to display myself. To give myself to many willing men, and hopefully at the same time.

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Circumstance meant the together with my wife and step-daughter we had to move into her parents' house for a couple of months. It was a tight squeeze and left many difficult moments in a small bungalow – her father being a miserable bastard who refused to speak to me. Her mother, Pam, was a good looking woman. She had got pregnant at the age of 16 and therefore was not that much older than us.

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This is the follow on from "In the Beginning". Thank you for the kind comments. Please remember this is a true story. The weeks that followed our first, brief meeting in the car park were filled with frantic sexual contact between Rob and I. I recall lying totally naked on my bed and stroking myself until I came all over my chest and stomach as he told me over the phone of his desire to be inside my mouth.

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I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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Professor Angela O'Neil removed her glasses to rub tiredly at her eyes. Continuing a ritual she had already completed many times this afternoon, she turned her head to glance out the tiny window. It was fully dark now, the only light coming from the campus lights reflecting off the thick blanket of snow. Dark and dreary when she arrived in the morning, dark and dreary when she finally left for the day. Much as she hated to admit it, Winter was beginning to wear on her.

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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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