Your erotic stories

It was the stupidest thing I've done in my entire life; let's be honest, I knew that at the time but I still did it, silly cow! It was just before Christmas, and I'd gone with a few of my fellow teachers to the pub to celebrate the end of term – my first in my new profession. I'm Cathy Hull by the way, 23, pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way with a pale face, regular features, shoulder length brown hair (mousey, if I'm, being honest), and quite petite, five-foot-four with a slim figure. I'm from just outside London, and the school I teach at is about fifty miles north of my home town.

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It had been two months since I moved back, and I still didn't feel any more at home. I had lived on the estate several years ago, but that was when my grandfather and uncle were still alive, when we still had live-in servants, when I was still a teenager. It was different now, with the reality of adulthood coming a little too quickly, the mansion and grounds now a lonely responsibility.

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It was so strangely sexy, this new toy David had brought home. I'd secretly always wanted one, but never knew how to ask him for it. It's as if he knew that deep down inside, I did. Now, it was real; a real life-like strap on penis. It gave me the shivers the first time I put it on and I didn't get it fastened very well. I almost shook with nervousness. But that melted away as David sat on the bed and helped tighten it.

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Walking up and down the aisles of the grocery store, I hoped I wasn't forgetting everything on the list I'd left hanging on the refrigerator door, like an idiot. I figured I could be forgiven, though, because I couldn't keep my mind off the evening ahead. Tom had promised it would be a night I wouldn't forget for a long, long time, if ever. When he had said this, the look he leveled on me had been blatantly sexual, shocking me because of its unexpectedness. The rest of the night at work had passed in a blur.

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It was turning out to be one of those parties. Sex was in the air, which was fine--the bedrooms upstairs, she had been informed by a giggling friend, were all ready to go; the master bedroom, down here, was open for anyone who wanted to enjoy the heaps of people already there, enjoying each other. The house was packed, an enormous house, too, with probably six bedrooms, a pool out back, and enough bathrooms to make the mind stagger.

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Marisol listened to the soft rustle of the palm leaves in the morning breeze. She rolled over, turning her face from the wall to the window. The soft morning light and the slight breeze made the open window look like a post card to paradise. She loved coming here, to Costa Rica. Her husband Paul scored them a last minute trip just around Valentine's Day.

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I awoke. I tried to figure out what had roused me. I didn't think I'd been dreaming; it was still dark; it wasn't the alarm clock. I rolled over, and hooked my arm over Em's side, under her arm. I listened: there it was, a noise from next door. It came again: a little moan. "Em?" I whispered.

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Jefferson Sloan sat in his rocker and watched the girls walk down the street. School had just let out and they would be walking by for a while. The powerful telescopic lens brought them up close. They were as cute as they could be. They could not see him nor could anyone else. He loved to watch the little teens walk by. "Where were all the beautiful girls when I grew up." he wondered.

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I couldn't complain about the view, that was for sure. Maggie and I sat hip-to-hip on a fleece jacket we'd spread on the ground to protect us from the tickly grass. It was June, and the groundskeepers apparently hadn't concerned themselves with mowing the grass around the field lately. I was in shorts and she was in a skirt, and we'd been going batty with the itching of the grass until Maggie had dug the fleece out of Max's gym bag.

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I mostly cruised the personals because that's how I got my kicks. If I was feeling sexually frustrated, I would leverage the vast power of the internet for the grist that kept the wheels of my libido turning. Still images, movies, erotica, text; it was all there and in every niche. Like all solitary perverts, I fantasized about having a partner who would fulfill my personal needs. But I was a miserable romantic partner and realized, at my core, I was a lone degenerate.

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