Your erotic stories

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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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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My name is Angeline Currie. You won't find that name in any history of Hollywood. In all the movies in which I starred from the '40s to the '60s, and the character roles I played in movies and on TV in the twilight of my career, I was billed quite differently. Not even my agent knew my real name but, trust me, if you heard my professional name you'd certainly know it.

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My friend, George, the sleeping car attendant, teases me with a double entendre private nickname. He calls me "All-Aboard Betty." Let me explain. I have necessarily drawn George into a conspiracy because I need him to achieve my purpose during periodic journeys aboard The Frontier, a transcontinental passenger train. When I'm aboard the Frontier becomes instead the Piece Train. (Apologies to Yusuf Islam. The devil made me do that.)

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Sometimes the way things work out can make you smile. Recent events in my life came together to bring my husband and myself some unexpected pleasures. I will start by introducing myself. My name is Addison Jeffries. I am 30 years of age, 5'10' and I've got long, wavy, auburn hair. I'm an attractive woman and slightly vain about my looks, so I work out daily and run and swim. I own a travel agency and can afford to dress in the latest, form-flattering fashions.

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She was the first thing I saw when I looked outside the kitchen window of our newly acquired house in the small Yorkshire village, and I was smitten the moment I glimpsed the saucy twintails in her red hair, the big eyes that appeared to look at the world with utter astonishment and the lithe form of her cute body, pale skin painted with delicious freckles and barely covered by the lime-green bikini. 'Blessed be the weather gods for allowing me this sight,' I thought to myself, quite aware how rare real summer days were in this part of the world.

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