Your erotic stories

My name is Scott and this story is about the summer after I graduated High school. I had one of the most erotic experiences of my life back then. Like most truly spontaneous adventures, the events of that summer have affected me in a manner, which I am convinced has driven my libido to the point of constant desire to this day.

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I was feeling dejected. The latest girl I had asked to the Sweetheart Dance, had rejected me out of hand. At twenty-two, I wasn't a bad looking guy it's just that the local Monterey women had plenty of men stationed at Fort Ord from which to choose.

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Two middle age men walk down a rain-soaked street on a dark night, and a small neon sign directs them down an alleyway. JIGGLE HUT, it reads. A bright red door at the end of the alleyway is well worn and has a big 'JH' painted on it in yellow. Marcus, the taller of the two, pushes it open and they walk in. Dark stale air glows with dim purple light, and bass heavy music throbs. A fat man on a stool that's way too small for him looks them over.

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You, my sweet wife Julie, have occasionally shared some of your fantasies with me in moments of post coitus intimacy. It seems to be our time together when we share our most inner secrets and sometimes, hidden, desires. One which has come to the surface several times over the past few months is a scenario of you watching me make love – not just participate in having sex – but truly making love, to another man while you watch.

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I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. I wrapped the towel around me and dripped to the front door. Guys are much more able to do that than girls are. We can drip, and show up at the door in only a towel from the waist down, and no one thinks it's a come-on. If a girl does it, she's just asking for it.

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Greg sat in his office smiling. He could not believe his luck. The 44 year old electrical contractor had been given the CCTV system by one of his customers. The installation of the cameras was easy. He and one of his electricians had mounted the five cameras up in the various areas of the office and had the entire system up and running in less than two hours. He had no idea the benefits that this thing would reap until now.

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Valentine's Day was approaching and my husband didn't know what to get me. I had gone through a weight loss and was feeling confident enough to start showing off my body a bit more. His gift to me was handing me the credit card and telling me to go pick out some new lingerie. I could get whatever made me feel sexy. He gave me the name of a small boutique that he had been to and had several things he would like to see me in, but he wouldn't tell me what they were.

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My wife Sara and I were out celebrating our third anniversary. She was 34 at the time and I 37. We had no set plans and decided to begin with dinner at a nice restaurant. We finished both our dinner and the pitcher of margaritas we ordered. Upon leaving decided that neither of us should be driving. Instead we decided to walk around the city.

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The "cleanest" sexual relationship I've had was also, in the end, the kinkiest. I lived in a cabin up in Vermont for a short time several years ago. I'd just moved east from California, had a couple bucks in the bank, and was woodshedding some songs for a new album. First night there I'd pulled all the curtains off the windows and stuck the clock radio in the closet, so every morning I woke up to the impossible shimmer of sunlight off the lake and got right to work.

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I was standing in the small room, in front of a curtained window. Paul's hot breath on the back of my neck was doing little to dispel the tension that was tying me in knots, even though that's exactly what we were here for. The room was pretty dreary really; just this curtained window and a padded massage table behind us against the wall. Tired paint on the walls, scruffed tiled floor and ceiling, as if men before us had been walking the ceiling and dragged across the floor, which, for all I knew, was exactly what had caused the scruffing.

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