Your erotic stories

If today was anything like the last two days, it was going to be a great day. I've always loved my job at the radio station. Every time I turn around there's a bonus, free tickets, free CDs, free jackets, etc. Gotta love those freebies. One of the best bonuses was our secretary, Joann. I've always had a weakness for Mexican woman and Joann was as perfect as they came.

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It was evening and he was sitting at the kitchen table, barefooted, in jeans and a t-shirt, reading the paper. I was off puttering around, doing I don't remember what, while Don was absorbed in the news. Suddenly, I had a strong urge to do one of those things that really turns me on once in a while. I went to our room and put on my short bathrobe. Then I went to the kitchen and stood next to Don until he looked up at me curiously. "Honey," I said, "I'm in the mood to get a really good spanking."

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We were in the middle of a meeting of the Auditorium staff when someone, Bill I think, came up with the idea to have one or more of us show up during an event and actually ask the people watching the event. We had been brain storming to come up with an idea to get people to tell us how to improve the service we were providing for people. One person thought we should change the name from Auditorium to Event Center, and advertise more of the type of events happening there.

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He was leaning against the white picket fence in front of his little efficiency apartment one evening as an escape from some of the crowd inside. He was in the process of forming a band, and a hoard of onlooker/wannabes had arrived uninvited bringing beer, loud mouths and nothing conducive to practicing music. So, out of frustration and tired of the noise, he had stepped out into the evening with a cold beer and some starlight.

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"I can't wait to have my cock in her ass," I whisper to you in the cab, as it picks its way through traffic. You look at me, your eyes wild with lust, "I can't wait to watch you fuck her." We kiss. We can't help but kiss. Our mouths interlocked, our hands traveling all over each other. The cab driver trying to catch as much of it as he can in his rearview mirror. The day seemed like it would never end. We had meetings to go to, papers to hear.

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I stood in the crisp sunlight bursting through my window, my shades pulled back and inviting the morning inside. It was September; the first day of classes. My parents had helped me move in to my residence room a week ago, giving me time to get acquainted with all the people that would be on my floor. I had made a good number of friends, many of which I already had invited me to spend the next weekend on a drinking splurge.

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Up until lunch time, Tori had not been having a good day. Both of her morning appointments were canceled, one by the buyer and one by a seller, and prospects for rescheduling either did not look good. It was days like this that made her want to scream, but there was nothing she could really do about it. As soon as she disconnected her cell phone from the last cancellation, Tori decided she needed a pick-me-up.

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His wife bounced into the living room and announced, "They sold the Johnson's house." "'Bout time," Gary said, not even looking up from the stack of bills. "I saw the new owner," Theresa went on and hugged her husband from behind. "She's about my age, long blonde hair; she's cute too!" "Oh boy," Gary said, still not looking up. He was looking at the latest bill from her Visa credit card.

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“I’m coming over,” I tell you, purring into the phone. “I’ve done a little shopping. Be ready for me when I get there.” “What did you buy?” you ask me eagerly, “And what do you mean by ‘ready’?” I laugh, not cruelly but coolly enough that I don’t reveal that I am nearly as excited as you. “Patience. Some new toys for us to play with. You’ll see when I get there.

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BEEP! The cell phone in Dave's pocket sounded, indicating an incoming message. He pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. The identifier on the message was his wife, Sally. It took a few seconds to load, so he knew it must be a picture message. When the picture came up on his phone, he nearly spit the mouthful of coffee across his desk in surprise.

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