Your erotic stories

Chapter 1 "You drive a hard bargain," I said, taking a long sip of my drink. "I saved your butt on this one and you know it," Christine said. "It's time to pay up." Christine and I worked for the same bank. She was the branch manager at a location on the opposite side of town from my bank, where I served as an assistant branch manager. We went through orientation together and had remained friends for the past five years.

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They had inherited their hair, eyes, body and figure from their mother. Only their face showed a glimpse of the father leaving no doubt as to their parentage. They not only looked alike but they wore their hair in the same style and donned identical clothes. Their voice and mannerism were also alike.

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The hum from the washing machines was a chorus of white noise drowning out the street sounds, the wail of sirens in the distance, the crazy-looking homeless man shouting profanities two doors up the sidewalk and the god-awful street rapper free-styling just outside the door of the 50 Cent Washeteria.

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Trying to keep the band together had been a right pain. With constant changes of personnel it was proving an impossible task. We'd just get the band fully rehearsed, when the singer would leave, or the drummer, or the keyboard player, and then we would have to start from scratch all over again. I was at the point of giving it all up when I was approached by Mark, who offered to manage and promote the band.

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The e-mail was brief: Please call George and Phoebe. I showed it to Gill. “Will you ring or shall I?” I asked. “Doesn’t matter.” she replied. “You call and I’ll join in on the extension if necessary.” “Sound good, do you reckon?” “It has been so far.”

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Pat dressed up for Halloween like I had never seen. She was a cross between a sexy Hooter’s cheerleader and a 100% slut. Starting from the bottom of her lovely legs, she had on a pair of white sneakers; her legs were bare with just a tan and so smooth and toned. The cheerleader shirt was Hooter’s orange and white and it was shorter than any cheerleader’s skirt I’d even seen.

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Hands and feet tied to the bed, I am completely vulnerable as I watch him approach with a blindfold. He places it over my eyes; the anticipation tortures me more than the restraints. I feel his tongue lick at the tip of my nipple, at the underside of my breast, and then slide along my ribs.

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I remember when my co-worker Tom and I finally arrived at our convention at Niagara Falls last year. We had been planning this trip for almost a year and if all went well we would have some sales contracts that would give us both a hefty commission. We got up early after breakfast and began setting up the small exhibit of contracting products.

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He watched her climb from the pool, and the moonlight and underwater lights made her skin glow as the water dripped from her. He was mesmerized watching her, he was often mesmerized watching her. She was tall for a woman with long toned legs and her stomach was flat and firm with muscle below full, natural breasts that were almost impossible on her small frame.

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"I'm gonna get a drink honey" John leaned down and kissed his wife, Janet who was sitting astride a swarthy man. Janet's hands were planted firmly on the man's chest and her arms squeezed her ample breasts into a gorgeous cleavage. "O.K Babe," Janet raised her face to kiss him. "Mmmmm that looks yummy." He slipped his finger into the cleft between her breasts.

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