Your erotic stories

A number of years ago my wife Pam and I moved to Arizona. We'd been married 10 years and I guess we just started fantasizing more in the bedroom. Actually, it was probably a lot more of me fantasizing than her. Before long I wanted to take it to the next level and actually bring another guy into the whole situation but of course there was a lot of resistance.

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Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.

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Mark decided that it was better late than never. He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Kristin was already up and had the coffee on. The warm, delicious aroma scented the entire room. He sat down at the table and reached for the paper. He opened it but was not interested in reading it. His mission this week was to watch Kristin, look for signs.

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The sound of the door opening and your chuckle made me shake my head. I rolled my eyes when you said, "Yeah baby." "Whatever," was my response to you. I heard your tool belt hit the floor, and I turned to look back. Your hands were on your belt. "Don't even," I said, with a smile. "Well, you can't greet me like that and not expect something," you told me.

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It had been a work day that didn't seem like it would ever end. Kaitlyn hated her job on a good day. Working in the Accounts Payable department as a junior clerk was just boring. All she did was just process one bill after another. All the other clerks were substantially older than her. She was only out of school for 3 years, twenty years younger than the next person. There wasn't much in common with them so there wasn't even a social aspect of the job.

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Marsha walked out of her office building onto an empty sidewalk, it was 10 o'clock at night, and it was dark outside. Her idiot boss had made her stay late for some stupid project because he couldn't get his act together. Some self-inflicted crisis and she got stuck doing all the work as usual.

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My lover has an Afrikaans accent. His breath whispers against my neck as he speaks gruffly in my ear, pinning me to the living room wall. I push my behind into his groin as he cups my tits, groaning he is "so glad he met me." It's a rainy summer's night, all sticky and we're slick with sweat. We're both in singlets, he's in jeans and I can feel his thick length as he nestles it between my shorts clad cheeks.

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Recently, while preparing vanilla icing for a tray of cooling cinnamon buns, I heard Todd yell from the bathroom. "Gloria, I haven't got a towel!" It prompted my memory: I'd washed them earlier and had forgotten to replace them. However, there were plenty in the hallway. "Linen cupboard," I called back. He thudded down the passageway naked and wet. Hot, I thought.

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We set up a night that I am going to be in town and your wife won't be. Our plan is to have fun with each other naked and see if we can cum up with a plan to get the wife involved. I tell my wife that I have to go there on business and your wife is planning a shopping trip with friends.

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My wife was fairly discerning when it came to other men she wanted to have sex with. But I knew there was one guy she was crazy about. He was a dancer at an all male revue. She had once admitted to me that she would have had sex with him at her bachelorette party, just a couple of weeks before our wedding, if she had had a chance and her friends wouldn't have judged her. Every time she described her feelings about him and his body while we were in bed, we had earth moving sex.

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