Your erotic stories

Ironing! God, I HATE ironing, but the height of the pile of clothes awaiting my attentions had grown to such a level, that I needed to do something about it. So there I stood; unhappily, surrounded by slowly growing piles of neatly laundered pants, t-shirts, dress-shirts and sweaters.

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I've told you about the messing around at college and of the 3somes with Sharon. Shortly after that episode with her I met the man that eventually became my husband, Kevin. Then, apart from the occasional half joking suggestion usually made in a club by a girl of, "fancy a snog" and a couple of strongish come-ons by senior managers in the ad agency I joined after leaving university half way through my second year I had no more such experiences for many years. I then told you a rather long story.

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