Your erotic stories

I remember the feel of the cool wall as it warmed against my naked skin. The wall was so important, my center and my focus. My breasts were pressed hard to the unyielding surface and I could feel you behind me. With my hands at the small of my back, bound at the wrist with the silk belt of my robe, I ached to turn, to move. This is the first thing I recall from my dream, with your fingertips grazing down my bare back.

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It is Saturday, mid-morning. My cellphone rings, I pick it up and see that it is my answering service. I take the call. "Yes, speaking...What are the symptoms?"...looking for a pen and paper. "What is her number?...OK. Thanks." I jot down the number. "Stephanie! What have I gotten myself into now?" I say to myself.

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In the early spring moonlight, the back of the river seemed to lift and heave like the body of a snake, flowing over rocks and stumps, braiding its way through copses of saplings on the flooded banks, pooling and forming eddies as it washed around the concrete pilings of the bridges. "What does that remind you of?" I asked her as we drove along. "What does that make you think of?"

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For a special woman My name is Jackie. I'm in my early thirties and I'm really happy with my home life and my career. I got married a couple of years after college, I live in a nice apartment on the East Coast and these days I am working for a large firm in our IT department.

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She entered the stairwell and launched herself at the stairs, taking them two at time. She reached her apartment in no time, and was soon inside her place, locking the door behind her. She shed her clothing as she moved through the apartment, freeing her long, dark hair. She shook her head back and forth gently, causing the ends to caress the soft skin at the small of her back. She shivered slightly, nipples hardening, and made her way to the phone. She dialed her best friend's number and started to sing as it was answered.

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Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a stitch she was wearing, not even a blouse. She had made up her mind that she wanted to see the hot, sexy fat man that left all those wonderful presents under her tree every year. So she took a nice long bath and shaved her sexy body bare, paying special attention to her sweet pussy.

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I had teased her mercilessly. Almost every hour I'd called her. I had just asked her if the sound of my voice still turned her on. She cleared her throat and in a quiet voice said that it did. I had her brush her fingertips over her nipples to make sure they were hard. She did and said they were. I smiled and hung up.

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Kate double-checked her hair in the glass window of Professor Foster's front door. She wasn't sure why, but the 18-year-old wanted to look her best for her teacher. Probably because it was her first day on the job as his babysitter. "Normally, I'm reluctant to do this during the semester," he'd said at the end of his last lecture, "but my wife and I are really in a bind.

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Brian was sipping coffee and taking in the vista of the Long Island Sound from the oversized sun room at the rear of his mansion in Old Field. The room was what he had built the entire house around, and he had cleared out trees and brush in order to afford himself an unobstructed view of the water. There were few things in life that made him as happy as the sight of the water and the ever present smell of the salt air.

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It all began with a "Hi" on the internet. Matt approached the innocent looking Sandy and struck up a conversation online. She was hesitant at first but eventually she opened up to talking with him. As talk progressed they slowly moved to the topic of sex and desires. Just before Matt had to leave she revealed that she enjoys being dominant in the bedroom. This perked his ears and his interest dramatically. They said their goodbyes and agreed to talk later.

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