Your erotic stories

"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?" "Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ." "No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope." "Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

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Alison. What can I say about Alison? She was eighteen, nearly nineteen actually, quite lovely, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, excellent figure and, to top it off, she possessed a natural sexual allure that automatically turned heads. Any male coming in range of her sensual aura was instantly drawn to her, irrespective of age, girlfriends or wives. It wasn't her fault. It was just that indefinable something she had.

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My name is Alicia. I'm an eighteen year old recent graduate from high school. My eyes are blue but I had to dye my hair blond. I was born blond but my hair turned darker as I grew older so I decided to change it back. My friends all say I'm a pretty girl but sometimes I question their wisdom on that. You may catch me from time to time in front of the mirror making faces, trying to determine whether my nose is too wide or my cheekbones are too high.

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Walt was home on leave after his two year tour of duty in Naples, Italy. He had joined the Marines after high school and reported to Parris Island for boot camp in the summer of 1959. After ITR training at Camp Lejeune he was shipped off via MSTS to his first duty station. On the route to Naples the ship made a few stops at Ports of Call, one of them being Barcelona, Spain. It was there that Walt lost his virginity to a pretty Spanish working girl. He had spent nearly three hours with her and he had learned more in that span of time then he would have imagined. He returned to the ship that night with the smile of a cat that just ate the canary.

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I slid off my heavy backpack in the shade of a stand of Lodgepole Pine. It was 1980, the summer after I graduated from college. I had put life on hold to hike the Colorado Trail. I had no attachments, no appointments to keep, no place I had to be but on the trail and in the moment.

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INTRODUCTION It was the summer of 1973 and I was the catcher for a fast pitch softball team. I learned about the team from friends who I had met in our townhome complex. Biff and Steffi were married and they lived in a townhome a few buildings from mine. Biff was the pitcher for the softball team and he had mentioned that they needed a catcher. I had played baseball in high school and college as a catcher so I told Biff that I was interested.

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Anne couldn't decide how it had happened, whether she'd seduced the girl or the girl had seduced her. Either way it was amazing. Secret, strange, miraculous. How had it happened? After the divorce she'd been left with the house and a reasonable income. From young trophy wife to discard in two short years, but she guessed she'd come out okay.

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I'm really lucky...I have hippy parents who had good business sense. We grew up comfortable, on the fringes. I got a great education, decided on some business classes and finally earned my massage and physical therapy degrees. My parents semi-retired from the Chinese supplement import business. I took over and maintained my practice on evening and weekends: I could afford to see only the clients I wanted.

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It started out as just another Saturday night – me, Terry, Jezza and a few other lads going out into Luton for a few beers and a bit of fun. Then Terry mentioned some gay celebrity he'd seen mincing about on TV before he came out, and we were into the usual shared rant about how queers were taking over, and soon it'd be compulsory to take it up the arse.

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The sanctuary was quiet and still as my husband and I entered the church, tensely gripping each others' hands. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, squeezing my fingers and tossing a quick grin my way. My clit was already tingling in anticipation and my panties were damp. This had been a fantasy of mine for a long time and finally it would be fulfilled.

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