Your erotic stories

The first shot struck Jennifer under the chin. That one came from Lawrence. She was still yelping when Trent's delivery took her full in the face, filling her mouth and blinding her in an explosion of thick white. She spat and wiped her eyes clear, then pursued her boyfriend, scooping snow as she ran. Trent taunted as he fled, but stumbled knee-deep in a drift.

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When I started dating Ted I knew there was something different about him, finding out that he was bisexual might have been it until I discovered he enjoyed taking it up the ass from me with a strap on. At least for me, that, qualified as different.

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When Laura Ford-Ramsey removed her coat and handed it to Karen, it was no surprise that underneath she wore only bra and knickers, suspender belt, stockings and high heels. Mrs Ford-Ramsey had been a client at Valentino for more than a year and for most of that time it had been her custom to arrive for her fortnightly beauty treatment semi-undressed.

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Was it true? Did it really happen? Everyone always wants to know, don't they? It makes it hotter, doesn't it, to know that it really happened. I guess because they think if it actually happened to someone then it could happen to them, too. Well, it can. That's all I'm gonna say about my last story. It can happen to you, too, if you want it to happen.

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"I have a fun evening planned for your birthday dear." said Mark. "What?" asked Vicki suspiciously. "Well, remember how I said I wanted to have a threesome? I called Alison and told her. She thought I was kidding but I talked her into coming over. I said if she would just watch it would be okay as long as she was naked too."

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It was a hot, sunny day in early September. I was on my way to a meeting at Amy & Bruce’s home. I am a realtor and we were going to complete a listing agreement to sell their house as they were being transferred. I was wearing a yellow suit dress with a double-breasted button front. It came to about 5 inches above my knees.

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It was summer. I was visiting with Sinéad (no, not that Sinéad), my aunt, in her very nice apartment in Chicago. Sinéad was 28 then, single, working, and not at home much. We would spend most of our together time on weekends, but I was pretty much left to my own devices during the week. I'd visited before from Ireland, but never alone or to stay for the whole summer.

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Lana is a 27 year old virgin. That's her state because of her background and more than a mild case of generalized social anxiety disorder. She was an only child whose parents died when she was 10. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately because it allowed her to shelter herself – her parents were wealthy and left their money to her in a trust administered by her father's long time trusted attorney, rather than her gold digging relatives.

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Sue walked into the bar feeling a little self-conscious. She nervously ran her hand through her shoulder length red hair, pulling on the curls slightly, and allowing the curls to spring back, looser than before. It had been a long time since she walked into a bar alone. That, and the fact that she felt both overdressed and underdressed. She was wearing the outfit he, her husband Michael, had set out for her—her black and white v-neck dress.

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It's Friday afternoon and when my final class of the day ends I race back to my office to see if the email has arrived. I've been distracted all day in anticipation of finding out whether or not it's finally going to happen tonight. Logging in, I go straight to my inbox. Nothing. With a frustrated sigh I lean back in my chair, a stack of homework papers on my desk in front of me just waiting for grades.

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