Your erotic stories

We had been invited to a cocktail party at the Croydon Park Hotel in south London as the guests of one of my husband's clients who were celebrating his fortieth birthday. I wore the favoured 'little black dress' for the occasion, a black velvet cocktail dress, very figure hugging and sexy, but sophisticated enough for a semi-formal party. It was open backed and held on with a thin satin lace, criss-crossing all the way up from my lower spine, at the front it was also cut low but under-wired, enhancing my breasts and giving me an impressive cleavage.

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The Mediterranean sun was reaching its noon heat when the resort owners finally left their rooms on the top tier of the three floors surrounding the pool centred courtyard. As they stood looking down on the men, women, and teenage girls below they couldn't resist a thrill of excitement.

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Kelly looked at herself in the mirror, pulling the bottom of her bathing suit tight against her crotch and running her finger up the crevice between her labia. She stepped back and looked at the strip of fabric covering her crotch, but all she could really see was the gently rounded mound of her vulva.

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I had signed myself up for an adult website on a whim. I was just really horny one night and stumbled across it. Before I knew it, I had the confirmation email and I was browsing through pictures of hot girls and couples going at it. The pictures that really got to me were the ones where the girls were sucking on a big cock or had just got a wad of cum all across their face.

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This is a true story from the Bournemouth gay sauna-bar at its old location, when it had a dedicated playroom. Locals will know what I mean. The sauna-bar was huge. Half of it consisted of showers, saunas, hot-tubs and the like. Separated by a bar in the middle, the other half was a dark labyrinth of rooms. Some were private, some had mirrored windows and some contained toys.

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The melancholy old songs were playing on the stereo. It had been 2 years ago, this day, that Andreas had been taken from me. Listening to the old 70s love ballads – The Carpenters, Barry Manilow, Barbra Streisand... All of those torch songs about lost love and trying to find my man or to try to replace the one that got away...

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Carrie stared out at the ocean; the view from her one-bedroom villa was astounding. The ocean waves lapped at the sand and the beaches glittered in the sunlight. The scene before her was unlike any she'd seen anywhere else, but then again the thirty-three-year-old divorcee hadn't seen a lot from the window of her two story home. What amazed her more than anything was the fact she was even here.

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Becky arrived about eight thirty. Fred had opened the gates ready for her. Prince wouldn't run out without Fred at his side, even if there were temptations like another dog in sight. Prince would always wait for a word from his master. Becky drove through the gates, turned around and parked neatly, ready for a smooth getaway! She switched off the engine and jumped out. Fred shut the gates.

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Sue and I had finally gotten away for a mini holiday. It was nice to be able to just relax and not have to worry about work or the house. We went to hotel near Dartmoor for a few days that had indoor and outdoor pools, a Jacuzzi, and a sauna. Just what is needed to work out that stress.

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My story started several years ago when my best mate Phil and I were out having a quiet drink while our wives, Tina and Laura, were on a hen night. The conversation always turned to sex as we both moaned that we never got enough. Our wives used to take our moaning in good spirit as "typical men's moans." Anyway the conversation this night centred on our drooling over a work colleague of my wife whose legs seemed to go on forever.

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