Your erotic stories

Maggie woke up in an amorous mood that morning. She bounded out of bed, fed the kids breakfast and got them off to the school bus in record time. She was looking forward to jumping back in bed with her husband when he entered the kitchen. Maggie was disappointed to see Keith had already showered and dressed.

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It was late and I was bored with the television, so I turned to the Internet for something to occupy my mind. I knew that I should be upstairs asleep by now because I had to get up for work in a few short hours, but I was still jazzed up from drinking cup after cup of Coca-Cola. It was after midnight already and I wasn't even the slightest bit tired.

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Winding down from a tense business meeting, I sat in my car eating a fresh sandwich from the farmer's market I had stopped at on the way home. I was experiencing the release and wind-down that comes from completing something difficult. It was an early Fall day and the sun was warm as it passed through the sun roof, the food was delicious, and I found a radio station that was actually playing music instead of advertising.

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There wasn't an adult in the land that didn't know what her family did. There wasn't a tabloid editor on Fleet Street that hadn't paid out hard cash for sex tapes containing her or her family. They were notorious; famous almost. Salacious details of the exploits became Internet folklore, the stuff of legend.

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Abigail Moran shifted nervously in her seat. The clock on the wall showed only five more minutes until her last class of high school was over. Ms. Fitch wasn’t really teaching anything today so much as chatting about the upcoming summer break. To Abigail, it was nerve racking! She snapped her bubble gum in frustration.

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I Mirrors should be banned, I thought, tilting my head slightly to one side. They're awake, you know, and exist to torment women who appear too fat, too short, too tall, too...anything. Each should be seized, in on-going raids by some would-be federal agency, a Department of Imagery or something, which if it doesn't already exist, ought to be mandated by Congress to protect females everywhere.

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Rebecca was excited. Today was going to be one of her special days. She'd been building up to it or a couple of weeks now, and no matter how she struggled against her perverted desires no matter how much she tried to suppress the depravity of her craving, Rebecca knew that eventually she would weaken and give in. Her sexual urges appalled her in the immediate aftermath of one of her soirees and Rebecca would analyse her actions constantly in the days that followed, but inevitably that analysis would leave Rebecca in a fugue of self loathing and disgust at her own conduct.

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He wondered how it had come to this but knew that although he could choose to, there was no way that he would leave. He waited, stirred his coffee and pretended to read the news paper, it must only have been a few minutes but it seemed like hours. A slim, dark haired woman in her early thirties entered the coffee bar and look ed around, at first glance she looked like a librarian, good looking enough but dressing down and soberly. She walked over to table and nervously asked,

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Anya's fingers moved, and a deep thrum began to emanate from the speakers. It was a low, raunchy resonance, laying down the foundation for what was to come. The rest of the band soon added their instruments, and the slow funk slickly filled the hall air. Now even the louder members of the audience were taken into a new stupor.

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I've owned this lingerie shop for years; no one ever shops past eight at night. It is now eight-thirty and, I really need to change the hours of the shop. Tomorrow I will make a new sign showing the altered hours from closing at 10 PM to the new closing time at 8 PM. As I start the motions for closing the shop early I walk around the store picking up things people left behind.

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