Your erotic stories

"I think my diets would work a whole lot better if the food I ate went to my ass and not my belly," Dawn mused, "Then I could starve this booty into submission." Next to her, Maria chuckled. "Honey, I don't want to hear about how big you think our ass is," she said, "Especially when you're standing next to this!" Dawn giggled as her she watched her mother give herself a little smack on her big bottom, sending ripples across her cheeks.

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"So?" Betty Simmons stared across the lunch table at her friend, Carol Whyre. Carol had taken a bite of her egg salad sandwich and was chewing thoughtfully, smiling as she purposely ignored her friend. "So?" "So, what?" "So what's it like?"

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At your urging, I decided to go shopping at the toy shop. No, not for games or toys for children, but adult toys. I had a vibrator, but it was on the verge of death, and it was time to upgrade anyway. I was a bit unsure of what I wanted, but I decided to just wander around and see what appealed to me. The first thing my eyes fell upon in the store was Tarzan. Okay, so he didn't come in jungle camo or a loin cloth, but this was a vibrator that looked like it could make you scream like him.

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"It would hurt so bad." Vanessa told me. " I mean that's an out hole not an in!" "I guess." I said "But… she likes it." I finished pointing at a picture online of a blonde girl with her ass in the air and a large vibrator inside of it. "That picture probably isn't even real." She said, "You know all the shit they can do with pictures on the Internet."

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I couldn't help myself. Reading the emails back and forth always put me into a frenzy, but the latest ones nearly threw me overboard. He had a way with words, you know. The kind that eat at your very center as you squirm away in your chair, feeling the fabric of your panties just growing wetter and wetter...

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Franklin sighed heavily as the phone on his desk rang loudly. He had just been promoted to a management position in the sales firm he worked at, and after a long day of wrangling unwilling underlings, the last thing he wanted to do was take another phone call. But duty was duty, so he picked it up.

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My first wife and I stayed together for too many years. There were the signs in the first two years that we had made a mistake. We married young. I had just returned from the first of two tours in Vietnam. She was being driven batty by her mother. We were young, lonely and needed to be needed. In her case, I have always believed she would have been more self confident and self assured if she'd taken that job with the airlines rather than getting married.

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That first time... God! She hadn't stood a chance. The wine, the kisses. Her blood had been boiling by the time he had started getting down to serious business. Her last coherent thoughts about resisting his insistent advances had been as he had slowly unbuttoned her blouse. The pause that had created had given her time to reconsider, to tell him 'no' or 'not yet'.

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Why was my best friend telling me this? God, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? I sat back against the hood of his car and sipped on a beer. On Javier's front lawn was a grill and flames were shooting up from the charcoal we'd just lit. We were both nineteen. I don't remember how the topic got started, but the sentence I've committed to memory was:

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There are all kinds of customers that enter Busty Bab's House of Pleasure. There are the married couples that are looking for something to "spice up" their marriage, the eighteen year old seniors that think their going to "get some" on Prom Night, and there are the dating couples that are so close to getting married they practically live together and then there is Annie.

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