Your erotic stories

If the motel were busier, you wouldn't even notice her. She was about five foot five inches tall, brunette, 130 pounds, mid-forties, nice shape and probably fun to look at under her jogging suit. I had seen her yesterday in the operating waiting room. Like now, she had looked tired, down and alone. Company for continental breakfast seemed like a good idea, so I walked over to her table in the corner by the window. "I saw you at the hospital yesterday. My I join you for breakfast?"

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I was tall and skinny in high school. A dork, although I didn't know it. I was interested in making good grades and succeeded at that. I had a few dates. Guys that were dorks also and had no girl friend would ask me to a dance or a party when they needed a date. Socially I was a misfit. And I don't think I ever thought about sex. If any boy ever did try anything sexual with me I don't remember it and I definitely would have rejected him. Sex was something bad and dirty. Good girls didn't do it.

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You don't have to have read Beach Stud to enjoy this one. Jason scrolled down the screen, saw the current price of the shares he had been following and hit the buy button. They were just a tad over $1.05 and had dropped from $4.85 in a week. He bought 200,000 and knew that in less than a week, given the asset backing of the company, he would clear a quarter of mil, minimum.

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Sally West had something of a reputation amongst my coworkers for being a bitch. She often would complain about her orders, finding the silliest excuses to call back and make us come back out to her house. The other drivers hated her so much they always took her order last, which of course infuriated her even more. For some reason, though, she seemed to like me; maybe it's just that I was the 'new guy,' or maybe, in light of later events, it was something else.

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I suppose a lot of people would consider me to be a slut now. But I don't think it's my fault, really. I mean, what else could have happened? I was one of those girls who started to flower into womanhood early. I was a skinny young girl who wore a B-cup brassiere when I was still in the sixth grade. I was completely embarrassed by my development. I dressed to avoid showing my rapidly blossoming femininity. Layered clothing became the norm along with a shoulders-hunched-forward posture.

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George and Carol had been married for just over ten years. They'd originally wanted children but nothing had happened yet and, basically, the idea had gradually slipped from their minds. Because they had no family commitments, it meant that they were able to devote time to their local community – especially charitable organisations. George had been asked by two different political parties to stand in local elections, but he had declined the invitations.

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I am a 27 years old male, in great shape and pretty damn good-looking if I do say so myself. I have a great job with a large advertising agency in New York City; an office on the 29th floor with a breathtaking view of Manhattan, and my life is going pretty good right now. I am on top of the world so to speak, single and loving it.

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It had been months since my divorce, and though I had recently started dating again, I was more than just a bit gun-shy about some of the men my best friend and sister had been trying to hook me up with. Only one of which I had actually had sex with, primarily because he had been good looking...and I had been horny. But that too had been a mistake. He was lousy in bed, looking out only for himself.

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For the past 5 years Katie and I have been dating on and off. We met during our senior year of high school and after a failed attempt at college on each of our parts, we both kind of settled into each other, trying to latch onto some semblance normalcy in our early 20's Gen X malaise. By the time we had each hit 23, Katie and I were both steadily coming to the realization we were right for each other. Marriage was something however that neither of us really wanted to give any serious thought to.

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Hello my name is Charlize Waters. Everyone calls me Charlie. I'm quickly approaching 30 years of age and dreading it. The big 3 0. I've been pulling gray hairs out of my hair brush for the last year. I'm also noticing lines on my forehead whenever I look in the mirror. Some might say that 30 isn't old at all, but you have a tendency to feel old when the majority of your co-workers don't know who the Fraggles were and can't legally buy alcohol. I work in a college town in a store that sells textbooks and apparel for the college.

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