Your erotic stories

Dr. Erica Welch shifted in her seat and uttered a tiny moan. Closing her eyes, she pulled her glasses up and massaged her eyes. This is insane, she thought for the hundredth time that day. She returned her glasses to their normal place and tried to concentrate on the paperwork before her. The CBC’s and other blood work on one of her patients needed to be examined, but her breasts were becoming uncomfortably full and every shift of her weight reminded her of the fat plug seated in her dripping pussy.

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I can see her watching me. Pretending not to, casting her eyes down to the novel in front of her every time I catch her eye from across the patio of this open-air café. Well, I've been watching her, too—long enough to know that she's been "reading" the same page for the last 45 minutes.

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She sat there and the thought to herself about all the times she had sat at home and cried while he had been out doing who knows what. She also thought of all the times she had pondered about what he was really telling her and what he wasn't. Tonight after three years she felt it was time for him to know the the pain she had felt.

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This is a transcript of an actual e-mail 'conversation' I had with my good friend Rebecca. I've decided to publish it for your enjoyment -- it's too good to keep private. Then read my notes at the end. * Becky, my pussy is so warm and juicy this evening, don't you wish you could be here with me? I'd instruct you to make me a cafetiére of hot, strong coffee and bring it to me with a slab of dark chocolate.

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"How would you and Robin like to go to San Francisco for a weekend getaway?" Carl asked, knowing what my answer would be. "When?" I excitedly asked him. He handed me two airline tickets and said, How does next weekend suit you?" "Only two tickets?" I asked.

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The room was quiet. It was cluttered with clothes, text books, computer parts, and basically random crap. Bunk beds were stacked in one corner, and two college freshmen were lying awake. On the bottom bunk Mary was having a hard time falling asleep. She was wearing a tight t-shift, and sweat pants. Those being enough to keep her warm, she had kicked off her covers. She was staring up at the top bunk wondering if her roommate was asleep yet.

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Amy... Chatting with you yesterday got my mind racing. The images were sooooo hot, it made me think about what might happen if I had been there with you. I meet you at your house, so we can go to this party together. I am wearing a short white sundress, with only the tiniest thong underneath.

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"Wow that must have been one of the worst nights out ever," groaned Jack as he stepped back through the front door of his house. "I know I can't believe that no club would let us in," replied his girlfriend Lauren as she followed him through to the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch. "Next time we'll have to make better plans to make a real night of it."

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To say that I always wanted her, would not be entirely true. I wanted her oldest daughter, Elizabeth, first. I pined for her until my sophomore year in High School (she was a year ahead). I didn't even try to be with her, only a friend and she blew me off, calling me lame, flat along with a host of other insults. With that avenue closed in my mind, I turned to her. She was the mother of my best friend, Meredith. She was forty years old my senior year and the embodiment of female beauty. She was everything I hoped to become.

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In the early grey light of dawn, my eyes travel over her as she sleeps, wispy strands of hair trace patterns on her cheek, a damp spot on the pillow, the saliva of slumber, freckled shoulders naked as the breaking day. We passed the point of turning back; hands held we crossed a bridge, felt its heat as it burnt in the darkness of the night lighting our future.

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