Your erotic stories

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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"Do you remember me?" Peter Dovzhenko turned from his seat in the sand, where he'd spent the last hour watching the waves rolling onto the beach, when he heard the smoky, Slavic-accented voice of a young woman behind him. He found her standing 5'3", with dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair, her body lithe and fit like a gymnast's, her tiny, turquoise bikini covering pert little A-cup breasts just big enough to hold.

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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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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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"You say you just want to play eh, no strings attached? You're my kind of woman." I smiled as I slipped my hand under her swimsuit, feeling the humidity emanating from her damp nether region. "I feel the same way, sex doesn't always have to come with a commitment. What do ya say we have ourselves some fun?" I suggested.

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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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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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Julie Davidson arrived back at her apartment block just after midnight. She paid the taxi driver and stomped towards the entrance door. She was in a foul mood. The 41-year-old divorcee had been looking forward to this night out all week. It was a rare chance to get out, dress up and enjoy herself. She had been out with her friends Louise and Pamela and after a few drinks they had all started flirting with guys, to her horror both she and Louise had ended up going after the same guy and he had brushed Julie off with a comment about not dating older women while Louise had her tongue in his ear!

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Karen thought about buying Evidence Eradicator 3.0 for a few weeks. The only problem was that she didn't know how she'd hide the purchase from her husband. It might eradicate the evidence of her Internet foibles, but it didn't eradicate the evidence of a forty dollar plus shipping MasterCharge bill. Tommy wasn't an idiot.

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