Your erotic stories

The room is dark around us, except for the few candles I'd lit before joining you in our big bed. A storm is in the distance, the low rumbles of occasional thunder signaling its approach. For now, only a light rain falls outside but the wind is gusty - rushing around the corners of the house with an eerie howl.

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A year ago for Lent I encouraged my husband to adopt as his Lenten commitment a vow to compliment a woman at least once a day. I explained to him that this would make him a better and nicer person and that paying women compliments is a good way to demonstrate your appreciation and respect for them. My husband enjoys being submissive in our relationship and I told him that when he pays compliments to other women and shows his appreciation of them, it is a compliment to me as well.

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Mandy's weekend had not been good at all; from the early start to the heavy traffic to the slowest bellman in the entire country to the flaky actresses, the Georgia peach was anything but sweet by the time she arrived home. A more apt description would be an ornery lioness, ready to claw the next person who had the audacity to simply look at her wrong.

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"It was your job to get him here on time. You do know, I hope, that the Best Man tradition started as being the bride's Best Man because he got the groom to the altar. You should never have taken him drinking after the rehearsal dinner last night." "I never expected to get so drunk that I'd lose him." "Pathetic..." the last comment came from the corner of the tiny bridal waiting room at the old church. Kristy, Carol's maid of honour, "I bet you aren't even hung over because you're still drunk."

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Wrapping your head around the concept of finding a guy worthy after you’ve fucked Aaron Black is like trying to wrap your hand around his cock; it just doesn’t fit. I had changed. Not only was he on my mind all the time, but my mind was in a different place all together on men I met.

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Karen thought about buying Evidence Eradicator 3.0 for a few weeks. The only problem was that she didn't know how she'd hide the purchase from her husband. It might eradicate the evidence of her Internet foibles, but it didn't eradicate the evidence of a forty dollar plus shipping MasterCharge bill. Tommy wasn't an idiot.

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Alana drove home confused, worried, upset. So why was she also aroused, wet, nipples hardened and aching? It was Sela's comments at the bar. Off-handed, outrageous comments made under the influence of way too many tequila shots — and anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of alcohol's effect on the human brain wouldn't give a second thought to the ramblings of a thirty-something divorcée celebrating a little too enthusiastically with a couple of friends in a South Beach bar.

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I received an email from Greg the Pornographer. He had shot my first porn scene, and what I had thought would be my last. He said a Japanese porn company was in town and they were looking for an American girl to shoot with. He said the pay was excellent — $5000 for a one-day shoot! But they did very extreme porn. And none of it would be released in America.

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He couldn't keep his eyes on the road, or his mind on his sales pitch. The sexy blonde was driving barefoot, and all Gavin could think about was how his cum would look on those toes of hers. "Wow, it handles like a dream," the girl said, smiling. The bright sun reflected back from the polished chrome of the gas pedal, the dazzling light gleaming from between her toes.

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I was halfway home when I saw her standing on the street with her thumb out. The closer I got, the slower I drove. She was tall, about five feet seven, with medium length black hair falling loosely about her shoulders. Her eyes were deep black. She was wearing a short skirt, a cutoff white t-shirt, and barefoot. Barefoot and pregnant, I thought.

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