Your erotic stories

Ahh, the first time is always so sweet, so special, so exciting. You may have certain expectations but you don't know for sure what will actually happen. It may be a new person or a new experience. In this case it was both, and more. Mai was ready for this new experience. Something she'd fantasized about for quite a while, even before we met.

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I sat down and cooed to her, soothing, calming. Trying to get her to stop. I was really getting worried. What would happen tomorrow? This could be an incredible disaster! Finally, slowly, she calmed and then relaxed and slowly got to her feet, this gorgeous sexy woman, my own nude mother, came as sat again in her chair.

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Its been the team Christmas do and I am all dressed up....heels, sleeveless black dress, cleavage. All evening I have been trying to concentrate on having a good time with everyone, but my mind keeps wandering to what's coming up, and my face is flushed with excitement along with several glasses of white wine.

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The hardest part of a marathon is often around Miles 20 and 21. It's the terrible intersection where the body is exhausted and the mind knows that the finish line is still miles ahead. Lauren hit that low point around noon. She was in good condition, her small body lean and toned, but the day was simply too much. It was much hotter than expected, over 80 degrees even at the starting line, and she had been struggling since Mile 14. She was too hot, too dehydrated, and had pushed too hard for her first marathon.

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She was wearing tangerine colored panties. Her legs were slightly separated giving me the opportunity of a tantalizing glimpse of her satiny inner thighs all the way up to her tangerine panties. As she waited for the subway train to get to her stop, her legs fluctuated with the jerky movements of the train, knees meeting then parting. All at once, a full crotch view held there breathlessly for long seconds.

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It had been quite a while since I'd heard from an old boy-hood friend of mine. When he called, I figured it was just one of those catch-up kind of phone calls. Boy was I wrong! "Danny boy!" he began. I grimaced over the phone. I hated it when anyone called me Danny. The name was Dan. "Yeah? What's up?" I responded keeping that edge of irritation out of my tone of voice. I didn't need to egg him on any more by letting him know that.

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Jordan stepped outside his small London hotel and paused. His business here in England was completed and he had one more day to sightsee before his flight home. This late October day had been cold and drizzly since morning and he was glad he'd saved his free time for some museums. He held an umbrella and glanced upwards. The sky was nearly dark with the early winter night.

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He had just turned sixty when his wife passed away. Along with her passed the dreams of a retirement of travel with her as his constant companion. They had planned to travel the world together, but it was not to be. Now he moped about their home with no ambition or desire to do anything, including keep the house clean. He sometimes straightened a little, knowing how disappointed she would have been to see her home in such disorder. He couldn't bring himself to show much interest in anything, until finally, his children told him he had to clean up his act.

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Mariah walked out of the office feeling extremely self-conscious. She'd never once in her life imagined that she'd have to accept public assistance, but circumstances had forced her to do exactly that. After losing her job and having no luck finding another one, her savings had run out, leaving her little choice. Her family was helping, but it was barely enough to pay the rent and utilities, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for more.

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Sam knew. "Who?" was all he asked. I didn't have to ask what he meant. "My new partner." Department regulations strictly prohibited fraternization between fellow officers. Fuck your partner, and you're not going to put your head out there in front. You have to think, not lust, or you end up dead. Toll collecting's a dangerous business these days, what with anarchy only a hair's breadth away.

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