Your erotic stories

Not for the first time, she swished her ass as she walked by him. It was an ongoing temptation that he could no longer resist. Steve had decided that he was going to teach this little tease a lesson, and have his way with her whether she wanted it or not. This beautiful cockteaser had been taunting him long enough.

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My name is Trish, and my life changed by pure coincidence. A single friend of mine was showing me this website she was using to help find people for her to "hook up" with. I wasn't really interested because I'm happily married and have been for twenty years, but it was great hearing her get excited about it. She just gave me a quick overview of the site, punched in some search criteria and let me look at the results.

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I've always been a hairier-than-average guy, and I've always been grateful that, in the body-type lottery, I was given a hairy one. Mind you, I'm not the hairiest guy you'll ever meet -- not like those guys who get nicknames like 'Bear' or 'Ape' -- but my chest and shoulders have a nice, ample covering of hair, and my arms and legs, too. I was 'That Kid' in junior high -- the first guy in my class to hit puberty, the guy the other boys gawked at in the showers after gym class.

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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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Walk on the Beach, to Dance in the SKY The brown grass brushed the side of my calf with a feathery touch as I walked past it. I felt shivers, and then goosebumps ran up my skin. With my sandals starting to slip in the sand, I walked past the half-faded warning sign.

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It has been a while since I've written, and I have to admit there hasn't been a lot to write about. Oh, I am still involved with my former boss, I still am dating a couple nice guys, still working and still enjoying life. At a recent luncheon with my friend Jennifer we reflected on our lives and the little and large things that make us happy. Jennifer has rekindled happy into her personal repertoire since breaking up with Max, a real jerk of a guy. Now she was playing the field, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.

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It was the late 70s. I was in college and not old enough to drink legally, but looked old enough so that my ID was rarely checked. I worked as a cook in a steak house and my asshole manager, Newman, stalked into the kitchen after closing time and barked "There is some cunt asking about you in the bar. The only reason I didn't throw her out is because she is spending money. Go get rid of her and get your ass back here to clean up."

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It wasn't hot enough for the outfit she was wearing. You didn't have to be a brain surgeon to know she was dressed to impress, and Derrick would have been less than a man if he hadn't let his eyes wander over the delicious curves of her body. He watched as she strolled down the concourse, and wondered how her outfit had gone over on the plane. Everyone else that filed out behind her was dressed conservatively.

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After a fairly brief fight with cancer, although it seemed long as she experienced it, my wife died. We were both retired, our children have children of their own and live a few hundred miles away. So, after the funeral and everyone returning to their own lives, I was on my own. It's difficult adjusting to that. I mean, after a long marriage where you become sort of two halves of one organism, to all of a sudden be alone.

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What to write about? What to write about I mused to myself, my mind momentarily blank. Glancing through the pages and pages of stories in Literotica you could be forgiven for thinking that just about every topic for a story had already been used. I sat back in the chair pondering on possible story themes and as I did I started thinking about my life so far.

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