Your erotic stories

The dance music was loud. The club was packed with sweaty bodies, and Karen was thirsty. She moved past gyrating bodies and through entangled couples. The dance club charged a lot for drinks, so she ordered a bottle of water and retreated to a corner. She sipped it and stared out at the dance floor. Karen was a twenty three year old senior in college, finishing up a Masters in communication.

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I didn't think too much about it the first time I saw Merrill and David together. After all, one wouldn't make a connection would one: she, an almost-thirty-three, high-flying tax lawyer and he a high school student? They sat chatting in the late afternoon sunshine on the low stone wall that separates my garden and that of David's parents. They weren't even facing each other; more shoulder-near-shoulder, facing in opposite directions, with their feet in their respective gardens.

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Fred couldn't remember how he got into the city the next morning. In fact when he realised he was in the city he couldn't remember waking up, getting dressed, having breakfast and getting into the car. He even glanced down guiltily to make sure he was dressed. He had gone to the city, he decided, because it was about the time he usually went there. He tried to remember what he usually bought in the hypermarket and in this way he slowly managed to work his way around to the checkout.

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Attending the cocktail reception welcoming the conference attendees was not at all out of the ordinary for me, as I always wanted to check them out before the opening sessions in the hopes that I might find a hot one to hook up with. In my early years of writing I had attended many such conferences as an attendee, for the past few years it had been on their dollar, as a paid speaker. I tried to do one or two of these conferences a year... picking my spots so it would be to a place I enjoyed visiting... and Newport Beach definitely ranked up there on my list of desirable places.

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It was early spring in DC. While my love life was hardly what I would call "on the skids", it had been lackluster as of late. One would naturally assume that the night club scene would be a meat market. To a great extent, it is. Night after night I went to various spots. My friends had gotten into the habit of telling me during this period that I was too picky or that I just needed a good romp to get out of my funk. I would laugh it off.

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When my computer software company started a coed softball team I decided to sign up, figuring it would be a good way to socialize with other employees. As it turns out, not many people signed up, so one of the younger people filled out the team with a bunch of her friends. When I turned up at the first game, there were a bunch of 20 somethings, a few 30 somethings, and me, a mid 40s something. Since I am a fairly fit mid 40s, I didn't stand out too much.

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Today is her birthday and Tim has waited a long time for this surprise. He intends to make this a birthday to remember. All day long he has been planning and preparing things for their special night. The picnic basket is packed with a lovely bottle of wine, cheese, crackers, fruit and her favorite chocolates. Tim remembered the chocolates, the little smooth ones that melt so delicately in your mouth.

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Aaron moaned, head rolling from side to side on his pillow. His jaw was tightly clenched, as were his fists. He thought hazily that he must be bruising the soft, perfect pear curves of her hips, but he couldn't help it. He was dying. His cock was wedged tight in the hot clench of her no-longer virgin cunt and she was riding him, tits bouncing prettily, long red corkscrew curls springing and sliding over her lightly freckled shoulders. Her mouth was a lush rose bed of pleasure, lips wet and parted on harsh, hard, eager moans.

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On that particular morning, I woke up with a massive hard-on. So it was quite convenient that my cock was deeply buried in Patty's throat at the time. Chicken or the egg? I had been "dating" Patty, if you can accurately categorize marathon sex sessions as "dating", for about six weeks now. During that time, my dick was usually buried in some orifice, crack, or crevice of Patty's torso and head a great majority of the time. Her eardrums might have been safe, but pretty much every other hole was fair game.

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Travelling for work is not as much fun as it used to be. All those airports, those sleepless journeys, being up to speed on most movies and Discovery Channel documentaries is no substitute for a regular life. Constantly hopping from hotel to hotel, albeit with grander and grander rooms then suites as the work and career progressed. Learning to pack for a week in a walk-on bag and still look smart every day - an unwished for skill but essential nonetheless.

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