Your erotic stories

I discovered very early in my life that I am an inveterate voyeur. My most fulfilling, most erotic sexual experiences have always involved watching. Watching movies. Watching television. Watching on the Internet. Even watching in my minds eye as I read stories. Naturally, I simply enjoy watching women as they go about their daily activities.

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Sitting under the awning next to her truck, Vanille looked down the street and decided that the fair was beginning to wind down. She breathed a sigh of relief both because the long day was over, and because she was going to turn a decent profit from working the small town street fair. Considering her name, she might very well have been destined to sell homemade ice cream from the back of a truck, but it certainly hadn't been her plan.

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Liz sat on the couch with her long legs crossed, the high heel on her raised foot rocking back and forth with the nervous energy of her toes moving. Her short tight skirt was up high on her thighs, the tops of her thigh high stockings showing a strip of bare skin above them. Lisa grinned and said to her roommate, "You're motor is running. Any reason or just general horniness?"

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Terrance Madison looked around the crowded ballroom, hoping for a glimpse of her, not seeing her anywhere. For a brief moment, all his old insecurities came flooding back to him. Terrance pushed them back down -- way, way down, because there was no logical reason to have them any more. At 43, he looked great -- better than he had some 25 years earlier.

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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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Jimmy parked his truck in front of the dorm and climbed out. Checking the name on the front of the building, he walked up the sidewalk and pulled the door open. As soon as he stepped into the building, he heard her. "JIMMY!" He turned to the sound and barely had time to register the form of a pretty brunette before she flew into his arms.

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My husband and I were in the process of moving out of a tiny apartment in the city and remodelling an old farm house about thirty miles from the beltway. It actually made him closer to work, and neither of us wanted to raise a child while living in an apartment in the middle of the state capitol. We were finally seriously discussing children after being married for eight years.

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"Haven't you ever wanted to push your limits?" you ask me one warm Saturday morning. I stare at you in the mirror as I brush my teeth, my eyes wide and eyebrows raised. I suspect you're about to propose something for us to do and I can hardly wait to hear what you have in mind. Lately, your ideas have been getting more brazen. I don't know how you're going to top last Saturday night. Portions of what we did are illegal in 9 states I think.

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I had taken Friday off work with the intention of going to Cobblers Beach for the first time this summer, and was pleased when it turned out to be a hot, sunny day. I got the bus there, arriving at around 11am, and as I made my way down the rocky slope which leads to it, there was as usual a tight feeling of anticipation in my stomach.

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It started off innocently enough. It was Memorial Day weekend and my girlfriend's parents were out of town, and our friend, Liz was going to hang out with us. Her boyfriend was out of town as well. Well, to be more accurate, he was out of the country. He was spending a semester abroad in Ireland, and, from what Liz heard, he was studying more than just the culture.

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