Your erotic stories

His fingers were in her pussy, tracing patterns on the sensitive and soaked flesh of her inner passages and lazy curly q's on her clitoris. His lips were on hers, roving tongue and all, giving her long kisses that sucked the breath from her. All in all, she was completely lost in the sensations of his lovemaking and would probably have done anything he wanted. Her mind was a mixture of numb to the rest of the world and alive with him. Her heart throbbed and the blood in her veins had turned into a molten river of arousal. Everything was perfect.

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Shane and I had known each other in college for 3 years. We were both tired of our roommates this year. Shane complained about his playing music late into the night while he tried to study. Mine was worried he would miss class so he woke up 3 hours early for his first class which was 3 hours earlier than I had to get up and was a slob.

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Brothers John and Drew had taken a week or so's holiday to go sea fishing on England's south coast, but after a few days being tossed about in the tiny tub they had managed to hire their stomachs demanded a reprieve. So the next day they took a holiday from their holiday.

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Cammie Sandrith lie awake in the dark of the night listening. She heard the gurgling at last, long after she had started listening for it. It was late, after two in the morning, and she had woken almost instantly when someone closed the door to the bathroom just down the hall. From the sound of the footfalls on the linoleum, it was her son, Roger, back for the weekend from university. It took forever for him to begin. Then the gurgling had commenced.

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The chill October breeze sent a shiver through my body as I closed the front door of my parents' house who I had been visiting that evening. As I locked the mortice, I heard a sound to my left. I looked round and, in the frame of light created by the open front door of the neighbouring house, I saw, over the dividing fence, my 'childhood sweetheart' struggling to manoeuvre a large fridge/freezer over the precipice of the doorstep.

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I had known Diana for over four years, since my husband came to the university here. We've always been friendly in a casual way, never close. We see each other about once every other month, mostly faculty social events involving our husbands. Mine is a bigshot professor, hers is the dean of the college and though they've become pretty good friends over the years, we've never socialized as a foursome.

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In my experience it is more men than women who are into peeing. But in my case it was quite the opposite -- I never fantasized about it and if you had asked me I would have been disgusted. Here is how that changed. Firstly let me tell you something about myself. My name is Peter and I'm 35. This happened when I was 30. I'm 5'11, with dark hair and a muscular body.

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"Can you bring me a roll of toilet paper please?" I get a roll from the hall closet and bring it into you in the bathroom. The sight before me makes me stop in my tracks. You're not sitting on the toilet, but instead, on one of those camping toilets, which is basically a toilet seat on four legs. Your pants are pulled down and bunched up just below your knees, which allows you to spread your legs apart.

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Rebecca was excited. Today was going to be one of her special days. She'd been building up to it or a couple of weeks now, and no matter how she struggled against her perverted desires no matter how much she tried to suppress the depravity of her craving, Rebecca knew that eventually she would weaken and give in. Her sexual urges appalled her in the immediate aftermath of one of her soirees and Rebecca would analyse her actions constantly in the days that followed, but inevitably that analysis would leave Rebecca in a fugue of self loathing and disgust at her own conduct.

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The sex between Devin and me, which began on our third date (a month ago now), has been world-incinerating in its hotness. In addition, call it the effect of the honeymoon phase if you want, but I love the guy with every shred of my soul-his gentle gray eyes, his teeth slightly crooked on the upper right, his large but graceful hands, his messy dark hair, his subtle sense of humor, his passion for the same art and music I like, his trace of an Irish accent. (He and his parents moved to the U.S. nine years ago, when he was twelve.)

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