Your erotic stories

I met Kimmy when I was doing a consulting job for a downtown charitable organization. She had been assigned to be my assistant and go-to girl in case I needed her, but to be honest I rarely did. She was a pretty girl, blonde hair and startling doe-eyes. She was also a big girl, not an ounce of fat on her, I doubt, but farm-girl stocky with a broad ass and big, full breasts. She wore tight jeans and low cut tops that showed off her generous cleavage.

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I smiled when I saw the house. The corner streetlight reflected on the metal numbers screwed to the front door. This was the place. I slipped through the front gate and into the garden, walking quietly around the side of the house, carrying my bag. There was a back gate, locked, but reaching over I easily found the bolt and slid it open; stepping through I closed it behind me.

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I had been broken up with my ex girlfriend, Erica, for over six months and both of us had moved on, or so I thought. She called me at work one fateful day and asked if she could see me, that she had something to tell me. I said okay and began to think of what the news might be. She arrived at my office right before everyone left for the day. She knocked on my door and I told her to come in.

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Jill pulled the kitchen window curtain aside just enough to get a look at Eric mowing her lawn. She watched as he made a sharp turn at the end of the backyard before starting back in her direction. The temperature had climbed steadily during the day and now hovered near the one-hundred degree mark. She noticed he had removed his t-shirt and tied it to the handle of the mower. Clad now in only a pair of cut-off jeans, she marveled at his lean body and the way he moved with graceful athleticism.

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It's unusual for me to escort a prisoner alone, but we are in the middle of a shift change, it's a quiet night on the cell block, and besides the other guards like to bust my balls about equal rights and this gave them the opportunity to crack a few jokes. I'm the only female guard that works this cellblock, and getting picked on is just another hazard in the work place. Frank Pascua, who is leaving for the night, wished me good luck as he pulled on his jacket.

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Carl was a large young man, heavily built but in the manner of a fit sportsman rather than an overweight desk jockey. He looked slow and his smooth forehead seemed unlikely to ever be wrinkled by deep thoughts. A casual onlooker would assume him to be a dumb jock, unfit for anything other than manual labour when he wasn't playing sport.

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Alison. What can I say about Alison? She was eighteen, nearly nineteen actually, quite lovely, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, excellent figure and, to top it off, she possessed a natural sexual allure that automatically turned heads. Any male coming in range of her sensual aura was instantly drawn to her, irrespective of age, girlfriends or wives. It wasn't her fault. It was just that indefinable something she had.

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Ted and Carl grinned down at the woman on the floor in front of them, cutting off either of her exit ways. The female cop glared at the two escaped cons that she'd helped put away, not a touch of fear in her eyes. "Get out," she said, trying to take the position of power, even though she was lying on her own living room rug, "They'll catch you eventually anyway, but there's no reason for you to be here.

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Molly had gotten up early that morning to start her drive down to the Bed and Breakfast. Her journey was taking her to an old country home found while surfing the WEB. She loved these romantic locations deep in the countryside. This one was especially interesting having been built in the mid 1800s by a wealthy southern farmer and his wife. The house reminded her of her grandparent's home and a host of good childhood memories. The fact that the WEB site hinted the house was haunted also tweaked her imagination.

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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.

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