Your erotic stories

"I've seen the way you look at me," I whispered in her right ear, my body brushing against her back, my nose flirting with her straight hair, my mouth hanging an inch away from her skin, my own flesh surprised that I had the will to halt its road to her neck and achingly begging me to tilt forward just a little bit more.

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She is not classically beautiful. Her face is rather flat with bland cheekbones, her lips do not have the fullness of a true beauty and her nose is rather podgy with slightly flared nostrils. She is though stunning to look at because of her eyes. They are large and delightfully, almond shaped in a deep, onyx green colour.

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Linda Jones was in the grocery store picking up a few things when she saw her friend Lisa Miller and her son Tommy. Lisa was supposed to come over later in the afternoon with a few friends for bridge club. "Hi Linda," Lisa called out, waving at her in the produce aisle. "Tommy, you remember Mrs. Jones don't you? Be a good boy and say hello."

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Cathy was shivering as she hurried to her Mustang in the school parking lot. She ignored all the whistles and comments from the students as the cold wind swirled around and blew her skirt up revealing her slim legs and pink panties. After starting the car she put on the heater but it blew nothing but cold air. She wished that she lived in a warmer climate than New Jersey.

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The hardest part of a marathon is often around Miles 20 and 21. It's the terrible intersection where the body is exhausted and the mind knows that the finish line is still miles ahead. Lauren hit that low point around noon. She was in good condition, her small body lean and toned, but the day was simply too much. It was much hotter than expected, over 80 degrees even at the starting line, and she had been struggling since Mile 14. She was too hot, too dehydrated, and had pushed too hard for her first marathon.

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I discovered very early in my life that I am an inveterate voyeur. My most fulfilling, most erotic sexual experiences have always involved watching. Watching movies. Watching television. Watching on the Internet. Even watching in my minds eye as I read stories. Naturally, I simply enjoy watching women as they go about their daily activities.

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Margaret had long kept quiet about a desire to participate in a threesome with a man and another woman. She was no lesbian, not even really bisexual. But she did like looking at pretty girls, and she thought the site of another, naked pretty girl making love to the same man as her would be highly erotic. And, if she were honets with herself, she found the idea of a few accidental brushes of soft, silky female flesh tantalizing.

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Susie could feel the Reverend's eyes burned a path up and down her slender form as he stood in the doorway, waiting to be invited in. They started at her auburn hair, tied back into a one-foot braided ponytail, flicked casually over one shoulder.

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PRELUDE The four divorced women were gathered at Joan's house for an afternoon of Bridge. It had become a ritual that each Wednesday they would play cards in the morning, have lunch and then enjoy sex with each other. Each week they rotated the location so that each woman had an opportunity to host the group.

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It all started when my very dear friend Murthy had a stroke. But, let me start at the very beginning. I am Sekhar, a sixty year old successful professional consultant. Murthy, twelve years my senior and a long retired professor has been my dear friend of over forty years. I and my wife Sumana (58) live in our own comfortable three bed room apartment in a posh area of our city, our only daughter, married, lives in U.S.A along with her husband and son. Murthy is a widower having lost his dear wife about seven years ago.

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