Your erotic stories

"Come on, Jennifer, give me some," was the standard plea from my husband Duke. Not that I minded making love with him, heck, we'd been together 8 years and had made love countless times in a variety of places. But this was Tiffany's wedding day and we were late for the ceremony. I was dressed in my perfect outfit, with perfect hair and perfect make up. I looked good.

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Entry Way QuickieNikki walked in the front door and before she could turn to close it, she found herself backed against the entry way wall. Hands began to roam over her body and in the darkness she felt her lover's lips meet her own.

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Paul's a mate of mine. He's a genuine nice guy and that surprises people when they find he's a mate of mine. Most people think I'm a bit of a bastard, but Paul doesn't mind that. He just says that's who I am. Like I said, a genuine nice guy. Like me, he's in the building trade. Difference is, he's concreter, where I'm a carpenter.

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I don't claim to speak for all cock suckers but what I'm about to reveal isn't going to come as a surprise to those who have given this subject any thought at all. Married cock suckers, in general have a guilt complex! That's right. If you think about it why would a normal, healthy, married man actively seek out men to "service"? Something is rotten in Denmark.

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One of the hardest things for me to deal with in my relationship, after a year and a half of being together, is that I'm not the only one she thinks about when she's laying in bed at night. That sometimes, when she's alone, reaching down beneath the sheets to play between her legs, that it's not always me in her mind. Breathing so hard, trying to be quiet while the muscles tighten in her legs, arching her back to the waves of orgasm quaking her lower body and clenching her asshole tight with pleasure, biting her lip to keep from screaming someone else's name.

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"I'm sorry, what was that you just said, Mrs. Pettington?" What a tiresome woman. I had just now been distracted from listening to her by the way she snapped her fingers at Kisula and then gave him a distasteful look when he refilled her coffee cup. "I said, Mr. Woolston, that I hardly think we need worry about these rumblings from the tribal huts. England has held this protectorate in Tanzania since the war, and we will do so as long as the London cafés need their coffee."

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I sat at the kitchen table and stared into my coffee like it was an oracle that could tell me what to do next. I honestly had never even considered this possibility. Not that I felt bad about that. Who could possibly have expected this? When Cathy appeared in that doorway, I thought I was going to die. My first thought had been that she was catching me in the act of cheating on her.

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"So, you are here to audition for my movies," Mr. S said to me as I entered the living room to the hotel suite. He was the director of Ruby Bulb films, and I'd been waiting for weeks to see him, as he only gave two auditions a day. I could tell which one was the big director immediately when I came into the room, as he was a Big Daddy Warbucks type, all height and big bones and muscles, and no hair.

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The bus is crowded during rush hour, and you get pushed toward the back, standing in the aisle, held up by the bodies pressed against you. You only wore a flimsy little cotton sundress that day because of the heat, but now you're starting to wish you had a little more clothing on. The heat wave in this city has lasted so long, you think people might be getting a little crazy, yourself included.

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The snow continued to fall and Neal was tired from the long drive. However, as he turned onto the road to the ski resort, his excitement built. The mountains ahead of him were covered in white and the heavy snowfall bode well for a great week of skiing. It was spring break of his sophomore year in college. His childhood friend, Cassie, had invited him to join her and her family at their slope-side vacation home.

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