Your erotic stories

"You want some help with those, Jane?" Jane looked up from the sink full of suds to where I was standing in the doorway to the front hall. The plate she had just finished scrubbing slipped back into the water as she released it to dry her hands on the apron and motion me over for a hug. "You cooked, I clean," she said after giving me a quick squeeze and a tender kiss, "Isn't that our usual deal?"

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I'd like to be gay. I really would. Why? Because guys are hornier than gals. It's the way things are. A guy is ready to fuck at the mention of the word. A gal has to be sold on the idea. It isn't fair, of course, but that's the way things are. Unfortunately I like girls. We don't really have a choice. Most guys think girls are just like them. Girls are not like guys! Think about it for a minute. We read about "sexual harassment" and think (that is, most of us think) it means a guy is trying to make some gal uncomfortable by talking to her about sex.

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Back in college, I met this one girl and we started to get to know each other fairly well in classes and in passing. She had a live-in boyfriend named Bruce, a guy in the drama club. After we'd known each other a couple months, she finally asked to stop by their place on Friday night and we'd have some beers.

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"Hey, this is really terrific!" Bobby exclaimed, as he opened the present I had just given to him. "I can't wait to try this out!" I had purchased a nice, high-end digital camera as a gift for Bobby for Valentine's Day, and he had bought some beautiful jewelry and lingerie for me. This was how the whole crazy thing had gotten started - I think every guy fantasizes about taking sexy photos of his woman, and this was the first time Bobby would have that chance with me.

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"She wants you...she asked me about you again tonight." You state to me casually while we walk. You found out in high school, much to your dismay, that your beautiful friend Sienna prefers the company of other beautiful girls. After moving south for a few years after college, she decided she missed it here and moved back recently. Although I was a little hesitant when you first told me about her, I figured I didn't have anything to worry about between the two of you.

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In a couple of weeks I'm running a large party with a group of friends. The organisation side of things is hotting up and there is a flurry of activity in my social circle with all our friends getting ready for the party. On Saturday just past, my wife Samantha decided to go out shopping with her friend Erica to buy clothes for the party. The party is nominally black tie, but the 'understanding' is that it should be a place where people feel comfortable with a more sexy take on the theme.

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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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I'm married, but have been in a rather dull marriage. After too many months of no sex with my husband I sought a lover. I've been involved in this affair for two years. My lover dominates me to the perfect degree of comfort for me. He has made me his whore, his slut, and I love being owned by him. We have done a little bit of swinging, and things edgy enough to make me crave his cock and stern hand. One thing that we haven't done that I want very badly is bringing another woman into our arrangement.

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Beside me she breathed, and giggled, and glanced over at me sideways. Her cheeks were flushed and a light sheen of sweat made her shine - her shoulders, her clavicle, her breasts with their rose-tipped nipples. I saw her stomach muscles contract as he slid deeper into her, and her fingers found mine, and my body tingled. My chest, my stomach tingled as her fingertips sought my palm and pressed down.

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Ezmerelda and Dan were in the same college, were in the same advanced chemistry class, and were even in the same study group of ten students preparing for the midterm final. But they had never actually spoken or interacted with each other, up until the incident at that study group review session, the incident which later became known as the C30H54N2Cl stable compound debate.

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