Your erotic stories

You're laying on your stomach at first. You can hear the footsteps of men enter the room; you're not sure how many there are. You can feel them approach silently, wordlessly. They walk around you. Their eyes are locked on your naked body, soaking in every curve, every crevice.

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I could not concentrate for the life of me today. I kept thinking about this mystery weekend that my husband planning for us that started tonight. He wouldn't tell me many of the details, other to say that we were bringing the toys and sexy lingerie, and that it would be a fantasy come true for both of us.

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My god she is beautiful. My wife Sharon has just got out of the shower and her long dark curly hair is cascading down her back. At 39 and three kids later she is still a stunner. A small mummy tummy is all that is can be seen, and that only by a trained eye. This morning before we arrived for our friend June's 40th birthday I shouted her a facial, wax and massage at an exclusive beauty parlour here in the Blue Mountains.

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There I was, a 35 year old 'Mrs. Robinson' sitting amidst a table full of young 20-somethings. They were all men, except for the friend who had invited me, Tabitha. We had been invited to join their table at Ernie's Pub. So, far off into the corner we trotted with our drinks. The conversations were plentiful though uninteresting. At one end of the table, a couple of guys discussed calling their 'girls' and heading home for the night.

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"Show me," Hannah said, grinning. "What?" Bruce responded. "I said show me, I want to see how big it is." "I've never claimed that its big, just that his is small," Bruce responded, laughing. "I don't care, I want you to show me." "Are you serious?" Bruce asked, feeling his cock stiffen at the thought of getting it out in front of his friend.

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I was getting ready for a trip to Washington on business, for work when Bill, a guy I didn't like at all, said at coffee, "If you are in D.C. you have got to go to the Iron Rod." "The what?" I asked, barely listening since all the guy did was bullshit. "The Iron Rod is the best pick-up bar in Washington. You are literally guaranteed to get fucked," he explained.

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Let me tell you about a party we had a few years back. Every year at our house my wife Dawn and I hosted a Christmas party for my employees. This one particular party was going to be the last one though because I had sold my company to a guy that had a pocket full of cash.

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Gary and Daniella, Dani to most folks, had invited Sue and me to a casual card game and dinner. Two of Gary's younger friends were still there, helping him with the same car that had crushed Gary's legs two months ago. Gary asked them to join us, so they laid a thick 4x8' plywood sheet on the basement Bumper Pool table over some towels to protect the rails. Dani pulled a painter's tarp over the makeshift table and covered it all with a heavy tablecloth.

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"There is, of course, the tale of the man who built a horse of ebony that flew through the air with its rider—" "We've heard that one already. What about the tale of the three Sufi Qalandars who were each the sons of kings and also each blind in one eye?" "That one was as old as a dried date when my father was a boy. If you want to hear a truly wondrous story, listen to me recount the tale of the rich man who bought a mermaid as his concubine only to discover—"

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The guys are both dressed in button-up shirts, Ken's is a deep purple color, you get to pick Mike's, and jeans. The girls each have jeans and a rather low-cut shirt, mine is black, you get to pick yours, Steph. I'll also be wearing a tight, black pushup bra and thong, but you don't know that. We pick you guys up and head out for the night. So we figure we'll go have a nice steak dinner at Outback or Longhorn or some other steak place in Charleston, we'll chat and catch up, have a few drinks, just have a great time all around.

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