Your erotic stories

Dave was sweating. The sun was warm but not uncomfortably so - it felt considerably milder than the sun back in Orange - but dragging the bag along the street probably hadn't been the best idea. It was well-suited to the task but the route he had decided to take to the hostel he was booked into was rather longer in person than it had seemed on paper. As he trundled down 33rd Avenue, he espied some shady greenery which turned out to be a park.

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Matilda Swanson stepped off the bus into the Colorado January sun. She clutched a heavy coat purchased in St. Louis during an overnight layover. The Florida native gritted chattering teeth and cursed the cold. A breathtaking view spread out before her. Far below and miles away, her husband performed his duty as a soldier training at Fort Carson. Teaching high school art classes may have been his calling, but he loved being a medic in the Army Reserves almost as much.

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I knew I shouldn't be looking, but I couldn't help myself. Kim had closed the door to her office and pulled the blinds, stopping anyone from seeing into her office. We worked in an 'L' shaped office and Kim and I each occupied the first office on side of the L, essentially allowing me to see in through her outside window from my own.

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I had lived with my first really serious girlfriend, Pamela, for around 18 months when the following events I'm going to relate occurred. I'd met Pam whilst working in a bar during a college year. We'd gotten on right from the start - she loved to party, and we clubbed many nights after work. Though outgoing, she was quite a private person when it came to sex.

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It started out as a fantasy. I'd stumbled across a website that provided an in-depth and intriguing view on the psychology of cuckolding. Originally a 'cuckold' was a man with an unfaithful wife. It was a scornful epithet back in the day. But more recently, it's evolved into a fetish - a fetish often practiced by intellectuals and those looking for more than just the physical parts of being in a relationship.

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PRELUDE The door opened and Jake Connors entered the duplex that he owned. He headed for the kitchen in search of one of his tenants Rachel. Her husband George had already left for work. Jake found Rachel in the kitchen and she was starting to clean up after breakfast. He studied her shapely figure for a few minutes before he spoke.

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"What's this?" I say pulling my long silky black hair up and in a loose bun. "I hope you like shrimp scampi, Ms. Lily," Josh offers. He turns from the stove wearing only an apron and drops to his knees and crawls behind me. It's six-thirty p.m. and my houseslut pushes his tongue the length of the crack of my perfectly-tight bottom all the way to small of my back.

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When I was eighteen a young couple moved in next door. Bruno and Maxine Steinhouse, and their four-year-old son Victor moved to our community from New York. Bruno was a cop and had been named Chief of our small rural northern community police department.

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The air was alive with excitement as the Southwest passenger jet left the tarmac. My older sister, Alana, and I were seated together toward the back, huge grins on our faces as we looked out the window, watching the city lights drop away. It was a red eye flight that we had booked at the last second when we learned that our scheduled flight the next day would have to face a potential delay or cancellation because of a huge winter storm that was rolling in.

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Brian was sipping coffee and taking in the vista of the Long Island Sound from the oversized sun room at the rear of his mansion in Old Field. The room was what he had built the entire house around, and he had cleared out trees and brush in order to afford himself an unobstructed view of the water. There were few things in life that made him as happy as the sight of the water and the ever present smell of the salt air.

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