Your erotic stories

The first best word to describe me by is ordinary. The second best word to use is horny as it is possible for a 25 year old young man to be. Add in slender, heavy glasses, insecure, and an almost complete lack of any line of rap? Well, you get the picture. The problem with that combination is that to hook up with a female, I have to work harder at it than some of my buds.

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Rick pulled up into the drive after an especially hard day at the power plant, glad that he'd tacked an extra day off onto his vacation. He was exhausted — ready for a shower and a lazy weekend. Loud music greeted him as soon as he opened the car door. He shook his head and chuckled, making his way to the door.

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Naomi Phillips stood at the bus stop, her shoulders slumped, eyes staring ahead blankly. Her mind kept going over and over the events of the summer, when she and her parents had moved to this new neighborhood. They were so happy and then... Why did her father have to have a fatal heart attack? Why was he having an affair with his secretary? How could he have squandered his wife's and daughter's future on this sordid affair?

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In all the fantasies in my mind, I'm a thin, svelte, beautiful woman. In real life I'm a plump, voluptuous, attractive woman. I have curves like a real woman, not angles like Barbie. The man I'm looking for doesn't have to be a Ken. (Actually, I don't want a Ken, because I want a man with working parts.) I'm not adverse to finding a good looking man. I like a sculpted chest, and I love a nicely formed ass, one that fits well into my hands. Those usually are my standards, I have been known to take a chance on a man who doesn't meet those rules.

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Free. Marie sat there numb, not knowing what to say, do, or think. Her attorney had just informed her that her marriage was over, her life as she knew it would cease to exist, and that she was a free woman at last. Her very recently ex-husband had agreed to all the stipulations (which were very few), and signed the papers terminating their 15-year marriage. All Marie was asking for was "out." Their home that had been lovingly built by the two of them had been auctioned off in a foreclosure sale.

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Mum put the telephone down and turning to me said, "Do you realize you haven't seen Aunt Emma for nearly two years?" "Is it that long?" I asked, glancing up from the book I was reading. "Yes, and she wonders why, she thinks she might have done something to offend you; has she?" "No, I just haven't got around to visiting her and it's a damned long trek out there -- the far flung outposts of..."

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I couldn't believe it after 20 years of marriage and a man supporting me, I was single again and holding down a job. I'm the executive personal assistant for the president of a nonprofit organization. At 43 years old I was still a good-looking woman but wasn't feeling it. My so-called loving husband and provider had left me for a twenty-year girl, who "made him feel like he hadn't in years".

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Sarah was nervous as she stepped out of her car and headed for the doors that would take her back to work for the first time since the New Years party where she had recently lost her virginity. The whole night was still a blur... a legacy of spiked fruit punch and a night of intense fucking that she had neither expected nor wanted, but during which she distinctly remembered having orgasming over and over while begging the men who had taken her to "fuck" her and "cum inside" her.

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Kevin & Lisa had met in college and fallen madly in love with each other when they were just 18. They had married on Lisa's 20th birthday, only 6 months after Kevin's 20th and now it was only a matter of days before Kevin's 40th. Both were successful professionals, Kevin was a photographer and Lisa a writer and they had decided very early on in their relationship that children would not be in their plan -- just a desire to experience as much as life could offer and they had managed just that.

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It was four months until the end of my senior year, and I had struggled all year to keep my moderate grade average up. I really loved all my teachers, but one made me furious. Mr. Davis was always writing comments on my exams about how I should know this, correcting all my spelling errors with bright red ink on my essays, and he would make comments to me while handing back my test like, "You need to study Miss McCall." No matter how hard I tried, I could never be good enough. I needed to pull this grade up if I had any chance of getting into the college of my choice.

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