Your erotic stories

Brooke felt the excitement coursing through her body and if she had the time she would've headed back to see her roommate and would have licked and sucked each other's pussy to get rid of some of the tension. Instead she was on her way to get a new car and since the new college semester was coming up soon this was something she had to do today.

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I looked down at a bespectacled Asian cutie as she undid another button in her blouse. I had my mind on her cleavage as I lifted my bag into the plane's overhead compartment. A half second later I realized my mistake. It didn't fit and I was trapped supporting the heavy weight. Smiling sweetly, she wasted no time taking advantage of my vulnerability. She gently undid my zipper, reached inside to fondle my balls and pulled out my semi-hard member.

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"I don't believe it," Randi said, tying her bathrobe around herself as she walked out of her bedroom into the apartment's living room. "What's the matter?" Anna asked. "Steven... fucking... fell asleep." "Right after sex?" Calista asked.

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The day my wife asked me about her using a strap on kind of got my attention and not really in a great way. Like most guys the thought of something like that just never entered my head. I asked her where she got the idea thinking it was the HBO series Real sex but she just told me it was something she had thought about from time to time. I think back on it and I realize she was testing the waters. She would often grab my but while I was shaving in the morning or sometimes slide a finger between my cheeks making me jump a bit in surprise.

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It was Sarani and me at the table, and Wygotzki and Cherkov playing cards by the door, keeping an eye on the dirt track leading up to the cabin. We were waiting for the batch to arrive, but it wouldn't be in for hours. Needless to say, we were bored. Somehow, we began talking about sex.

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The club is crowded tonight, and hot. The press of bodies, half-naked and gleaming, is a feast. The warm brush of flesh against flesh is a fever. Bodies clashing and rubbing become a furnace fueling my desire. As I make my way to the bar, threading carefully through the throng, my hand touches a shoulder here, a well-muscled chest there, my bottom brushing against the crotch of someone behind me as I squeeze through a small corridor.

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When she came down to greet me at the lobby of her dorm building, nobody -- not the security guards nor the other students nor the people passing by on the streets -- could have guessed what was going on. I was in a suit, she in a sexy (but not slinky) red dress that made the red in her hair pop. They'd have thought we were prepared for a classy night on the town (as classy as college students could afford, I suppose). If they had been paying close enough attention to her knowing smirk and my short, fearful breaths, they would probably have known something else was going on.

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Valerie Nicholls had found her motivation to work out regularly. His name was Connor, and he owned the gym that was incongruously tucked away behind an upscale European furniture store in what most people probably assumed was an area of tony shops and places where you paid four dollars for a small pastry that was wrapped up for you to take away in a small box tied with a ribbon. At forty-two, Valerie had been divorced for six years and was content enough with her situation not to settle for less than what she wanted and needed in a mate.

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Like any other good day, today started out with my wonderful Dom tying me up. Nothing puts me in a better mood than feeling the touch of rope on my skin -- the only thing that centers me more is feeling his hand in my hair as I kneel in front of him.

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She walked softly into the moonlit bedroom. The space seemed to glow with a layer of sheer silk flowing from the ceiling around her bed. She heard the rain outside rhythmically calming her as the scent of jasmine welcomed her into relaxation. There was nothing like coming home. Home was where she felt comfortable to be herself as a natural body, naked within a soul.

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