Your erotic stories

I hung up the phone and waited to be buzzed in, maneuvering the box in my left arm so I could see my watch. Shit. Five after eight. Almost on time. Well, if I was going to be late, this was the night to do it. The normally frigid March weather was glorious. Most of the snow had melted and I'd opted for sandals instead of my usual choice of sneakers. How'd I gotten stuck babysitting on a Saturday night like this again?

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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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A few weeks ago, I went to a local 'fast food restaurant' for breakfast, which is the norm for me. I am divorced and live alone and I see no profit in buying eggs, bacon, bread, sausage, and all that stuff, taking the time to prepare it and then cleaning up afterward. So shoot me, I am going to eat out for breakfast.

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I felt a moment of uncertainty about the experience I was about to let myself in for, but the sight of Carl removing his jeans to reveal a gloriously hard cock protruding through the slit of his boxers swept away my twinge of insecurity. Well, stricly speaking I wasn't about to let myself in for it; that moment had come twenty minutes ago, in the club, when I agreed to his crazy suggestion.

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The following story is fictitious, of an explicit and adult nature. This story is not meant to be viewed by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, offended by adult material or such material is barred by the standards of your community, please leave this page now.

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If you have never been to Copenhagen, I swear you should go. It is a truly wonderful city by the sea. The inhabitants are hospitable, fun loving and to a surprisingly abundant degree, exceptionally good looking. The legend says that centuries ago, Vikings kidnapped the most beautiful women during their conquering visits to Europe, and deposited them back in Scandinavia to raise their offspring, resulting in the tendency for tall, blonde, healthy and attractive generations to follow.

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It was midwinter, and my best friend and I decided to take a weekend trip to my family's cabin in the mountains with our significant others. It was a long weekend, and none of us had Friday classes, so we figured if we took off on Thursday afternoon we could get back on Monday night. Thus, none of us would miss any classes, and we would have a cozy, romantic weekend full of cross country skiing, snowmobiling, and, of course, lots of sex on the bear skin rug in front of the fire.

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Jenny and Tim were in bed after a long, tiring day of shopping and visiting family. Jenny was wearing a matching pair of blue shorts and camisole, while Tim wore only his boxers Jenny's head was resting on Tim's shoulder as they watched TV. They talked about the day and eventually were telling each other stories from their childhood about various family members.

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There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'

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Sarah sat with Dan and Jane, sipping on her drink, swapping happy banter with her friends. They'd been drinking steadily for a couple of hours and were certainly feeling the influence of their drinks. Sarah had always thought that her friend's boyfriend was hot and had fantasised on occasion about running into him somewhere and fucking his brains out. She wasn't out to steal him from Jane or anything, but she sure did like to daydream.

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