Your erotic stories

Thursday Night. I head home from work after another long day at the office. Fortunately, the trains are on time; I'm tired and hungry. I could use a hot meal and a shower, but, it's Thursday. I walk up to my apartment door and unlock it. I know what's waiting for me. It's Thursday night. It's her night. I enter my apartment and she's there waiting for me. She's as beautiful as ever and as naked as the day God graced us with her presence on Earth.

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I lay on the bed, naked, spread, bound at three corners. Only my right arm is free, holding in a numb hand my vibrator, waiting. Finally you come to me, and sitting down, your weight dips the bed, creating a well of gravity that I can feel, pulling my helpless body towards you.

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In another story in the Courtney series, I take a look backwards to the early days. This particular tale may very well be the reason I eventually married her. I was living in a studio apartment with just enough room for myself and my dog Max, which was a mix of all things big and slobbery. What Max lacked in looks he made up for in charm, but not towards strangers.

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Betsy knelt between her boss's legs, slowly slicing his short cock up into her mouth, wetly sucking him to the balls as she stroked his hairy nuts with one hand and jacked his spit-slick dick with the other, anxious for it to be over.

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I pulled my hair over my shoulder to work conditioner into the ends. Long hair is such a nightmare to maintain. "Irena." I rubbed the ends between my hands. "He isn't my usual cup of tea, darling." I quickly twisted my mane into a knot, spearing it through with the ebony hair sticks I'd picked up in Thailand.

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Cole sat nervously in the waiting area. He'd arrived for his interview the customary ten minutes in advance. He'd waited patiently for the expected fifteen minutes. Which had turned to thirty, which had turned to forty five minutes. "I'm sorry Sir." the receptionist said. She was a pretty blond in a tight skirt and heels which accentuated her legs. "I'm sure it won't be too much longer."

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The room is dark, floors are bare but for a square carpet in the middle.... it is this, most likely oriental. Your steps echo across the room. You travel the walls, lighting fat candles as you go, and soon the room is bathed in a flickering light. Simple, but you don't need much to do your work.A knock at the door and a girl, short, tan skin, short dark hair and begging brown eyes is dragged in by her collar.

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It was the thing she had for swoopy haired boys, Gwen decided, that made it so difficult for her to dislike Julian Swanson. And she really wanted to dislike him. Why? The reasons were many. His laziness, his money and the spoiled churlish attitude he wore with pride—fostered by his fawning mother— were at the top of the list.

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Chapter 1 The Preparation I stood back to look at my handiwork. Cindy, my pet and the love of my life, was stretched into a picture frame; she was going to be my canvas and my masterpiece. At 5'1", she has a slender, athletic build with a petite 34C-20-34 figure.

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It had been a long week. I had started work on Monday having to deal with crises that had started as soon as I left on Friday, and the fires had just gotten bigger as the week went on. I was really looking forward to getting home, having a few drinks, and just relaxing. All I needed to do first was stop and pick up some food from the grocery store.

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