Your erotic stories

It was the wrong choice of swimwear, and I was headed back to the guest room to rectify that, when the cause of it all stopped me in the hallway. The new owner of our company had invited me to his country place for a weekend to discuss some details of a project we were working on, and it turned out there was a pool party included. But, not knowing that, I hadn't brought my suit. I had assumed this would be all business. So there I was, having to pick out a loaner suit from Thad, my boss, and I'd picked the wrong one.

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"Here we are -- home, sweet home," announced Amber as the car pulled up out the front of a battered old caravan down the far end of the park. "Looks great," I said, getting out of the back seat. "Homely. Looks like it hardly would leak at all in a storm."

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Pieces of light filter through the room from the crack in the bathroom door. A sliver is illuminated onto the closet mirrored door as sweat beads across my Dom's back. Slick skin glides next to mine as the anticipation of the next move courses through us both. A nervous glance passes between my lover and I as she takes my hand. This move in itself scares me because it is done without permission. We are guided towards him as he uses our hair to pull us into his chest.

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While I was working in an empty apartment today a painter showed up to prep the walls. He was in his mid to late twenties. Short spikish dark hair with sideburns and a goatee. His lightly tanned muscular arms were covered in tattoos. He had a sleeveless shirt and loose boardshorts on, with leather flip flops.

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During the spring semester, I played volleyball in a local co-ed recreational league. I was invited to join by Renee, a former student and player I coached, a sweet girl and an awesome outside hitter who's since become one of my closer friends. Rounding out the team was her boyfriend, Jesse, Rachel, a teammate of Renee's from the college they now attend, and two of Jesse's buds, John and Daniel. With each of the women on our team having played competitively in the past, we did very well throughout the season.

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We'd talked about this early on in our relationship. But that was maybe 10 years ago at best. Back when we were both young and really adventurous, especially where sex was concerned. It hadn't come up in conversation in a long time. It had suddenly made an appearance again late one night when we were sitting on the couch relaxing after a long day at work for both of us. There we sat, leaning back against the couch, facing one another, a wine glass in my hand and a beer in his.

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It was my girlfriend, Emma's birthday. She'd hit twenty a few months before I did, and her folks had let her invite as many people as she wanted. I'm sure the unspoken terms of the agreement included not inviting me. They'd looked none too impressed when I'd shown up, glowering at myself and their daughter in turn before they headed off to hide in some distant wing of their giant house.

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As I walked into the city on the main street, Damrak, leading directly from Amsterdam's central train station, I nervously fingered the folded e-mail I'd been carrying tucked in my wallet for the past month and a half. Damrak changed into Rokin, and at the end of canal off the Amstel River, I made a right onto Heiligeweg.

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Trillions is where you go to get laid. It's not a private club, but you do have to look a certain way to get through the door. Well-groomed, is perhaps the most polite way to phrase it. I flatter myself that I do try and take care of my looks. While photographing models I've picked up a few hints and tips, and I'm not too modest to say that I've been mistaken for one of them on occasion. For your benefit, I'm five-seven tall in bare feet, trim figure, 34C bust, with shortish blonde hair. My eyes are clear blue, and I have very full, soft lips, or so I've been told.

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They first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where they were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While they remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, Yvette made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. They shared a knowing smile, both well aware of their common appreciation for such goodies.

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