Your erotic stories

Do you know what is worse than being married for five years and not having sex for the past six months, finding out that other men have been having sex with your wife in your bed? My name is Robert, I am 35 years old, five foot ten, thick black hair that starts at the top of my head and doesn't stop until it reaches my toes, green eyes, and a pretty naturally fit body, all compliments from my Italian heritage.

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I've been working as an escort in Cardiff for a few months now. I was a late starter -- I've just turned 54 years old -- but I've been surprised just how much business I'm getting. I used to do it part-time, but I've given up my job as a school secretary now and see men every week day. I only work during the days, not evenings, and my dull husband Don doesn't suspect a thing.

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"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back." With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.

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Even in my mid-20's some of my friends were a little rounder than they should be. I tried to get to the gym regularly to avoid that. Having a routine and going on the same days each week you see some of the same faces each time at various points during your workout. There were always nice sights to see at the gym and many times on the treadmill I would see the same blond working up a sweat. She had a few years on me and was doing what she could to hold off time.

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Annabelle's cotton sheets have ducks on them. They're not made of as nice of a material as the satin I'm laying on now, but the ducks are so cute and so her. I can imagine Annabelle's face when she'd determined that I stood her up on New Year's Eve. I feel so horrible and so cold.

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It was always a fantasy of mine to model for an artist. I do not think I really cared where the artwork would go, be it for personal use or to be on display for the world to see. It wasn't the fame or glory that I cared about. There is something exciting about striking a pose for someone to examine you in all your glory and imperfection, capturing your details into another form. Clay, paint, photos, charcoal drawing, all of it excited me.

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Sara's story I met DeAnn at work. The company always hired temps to have a chance to evaluate them for a while before putting them on regular. I noticed her right away, her dark, brooding eyes and straight, black hair and, unusual for me, I was sort of transfixed by the size of her jutting bosom.

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Tina arrived home to a quiet house. She knew her girlfriend Shay was home not only because her car was in the driveway, but Shay had called her at work and told her to hurry home for a surprise.

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Ryan's story. ------- Jay was a guy I knew from the neighborhood bar I went to in Manhattan. Not a close friend, just someone I saw in there from time to time. A few years older than my close circle. We played pool together and watched a ballgame or two. On TV and even up at the stadium a couple of times.

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"Ahhh, that were very nice," I said with a deep, satisfied sigh, as I spilled my seed down Des's chin. We were in the boathouse on the lower lake, here because Des had wanted me to fuck him. But now we'd have to sit and talk for a bit, listening to the racing shells grind against the dock outside in the bit of a squall that had come up over Sandhurst. It would take me a few to recharge.

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