Your erotic stories

Everyone on Craigslist can't be a creep, right? His post about introducing a woman to anal sex sounded very sincere. By the use of language, I'd gathered that this man was educated, thoughtful, perhaps even well spoken. If we'd met under other circumstances, we might find ourselves at the same end. But this was so much easier – I know what he wants, he knows what I'd like to try.

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Note: Your comments or constructive criticism mean a lot to me. Feel free to leave me a private message if you'd like to share your thoughts, get updates on future chapters or receive a personalized photo of my cock. Statement of veracity: This is a true story. Well, everything up to the break point. I'll leave it to you to guess which of these is the full true story.

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It has seemed a really good idea at the time. Bethany had always been like Emma's adopted kid sister. Her cousin had been born when Emma was twelve, and as a young teenager Emma had delighted in playing with the toddler. When Bethany had her first day at school, Emma had taken her little cousin to the gate, to give her the confidence that even her own mummy didn't seem to instil in her. (She'd made herself late for school).

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Tina looked around the bar: the menu was pretty scrumptious! Her luck must have been holding and she had hit the jackpot tonight. There must have been at least a dozen guys who would work -- now she just had to narrow down her choices. She was on one of her periodic hunting sprees. She and her husband had agreed a while ago to have a very open marriage -- anything goes as long as it's consensual.

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You had to be living under a rock this past year not to know the economy is in the pooper. But even in these economic hard times, people continue to buy houses. So it was when the old two-story cottage beside me went up for sale in the last quarter of 2007. It sat empty for nearly a year until a middle-aged woman purchased the property.

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I arrived at the Jefferson's Lake Campsite entrance and upset some of those waiting - families in station wagons, seniors in their recreational vehicles, young couples in their cars pulling small trailers -- when I rode my bicycle right past them. I smiled as I approached the ranger station and saw a familiar face exit. I got off my bike and walked up to him.

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"Oh, look," Carrie says "another adult bookstore. What is that? The 5th one we've seen on this highway? "Yeah, at least," I reply, "what is it about highways in rural Missouri? I guess truckers must be the horniest profession known to man." We watched the signs as we passed by the XXX Adult and Novelty Store. There were a couple cars in the parking lot, but probably not more than the folks who worked there.

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The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums.

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Mary was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to relate. Mary had been my wife for over twenty years, mother of our kids, confidant, no doubt the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was not, I hasten to add, perfect, nor was I, by any means, and we had the usual ups and fortunately few downs. However, one morning, Mary just didn't wake up.

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Kerri poured herself another glass of wine. She tilted the bottle up, all the way up until the last red drop fell into her cup. She sighed and took another deep swig, feeling the acid of the cheap wine burning her throat slightly on the way down. She had been sitting in the Pisa airport for nearly 24 hours. The train system, in fact, all travel systems in Italy, was perpetually running late.

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