Your erotic stories

1. When she was nineteen, two bandits dressed-up as Indians killed Molly Sheridan's father and her three younger brothers, and burned their ranch. They carried her off, but hadn't tied her hands properly, perhaps because they'd got so drunk, perhaps only because they didn't imagine she could give them any trouble, bound or no. Thus as they were riding, she was able to get hold of one of their pistols, and shoot the men dead.

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Olivia scurried nervously down the pot-holed street of the poor, downtown neighborhood of the city. Having grown up in the wealthy suburbs, she had only visited this part of town once or twice in her life. She recalled coming down here with her father on one of his business errands a couple years back. As she breathed in the hot night air, she recalled from that earlier trip the same sweet, slightly rotten smell of the city in the summer.

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I had to write to tell you how my wife, Gill, recently fulfilled her long-term fantasy. You may think this to be very weird but for many years her kinkiest desire has been to be gang raped. Seriously, she is incredibly turned-on at the thought of being powerless to resist as two or more men screw her against her will. She told me of this some years ago when she at first admitted that she liked to be fucked with her knickers still on.

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It started with an anonymous note: 'Frank, Dan has been seen with your wife. Check it out.' That was all it said. Did I need any more? Proof of my own, sure. I work for a large corporate retail conglomerate. I'm VP of Distribution. Dan works in the same company as a regional manager who happens to be based out of the same corporate headquarters for the local chain. He's a boss of smaller bosses, but he wasn't my boss. Dan is a hot-headed Mexican with a lot of piss and vinegar on an upwardly mobile track of well-earned success.

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Mary first met Jim's employer at her wedding three years previously. The best way to describe him would be a black, ugly, old prick. If that wasn't enough, he was also rude, overbearing, and demanding around white women. Maybe, having money and owning a construction company gave him the idea he could treat people like dirt. Being the boss of practically every man at the wedding was another reason he strutted around like an over-sized peacock.

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The last week has been incredible. The radio station I work at has a Mexican secretary that I've been fantasizing about since I met her. Her brunette hair flows past her shoulders, she has big brown eyes and full red lips, large breasts and a perfect ass, sleek legs and silky soft brown skin. Her body screams, "Fuck me!" And for the last week, I have. I found out that Joann was embezzling from the company and have been able to use that along with a video of us fucking to keep pounding her whenever I want.

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Vlad was doing his rounds at the St. Bathory Home for Wayward Girls. Parents sent their girls here when they threw up their hands and said; you deal with this slut. The Headmistress of St. Bathory's promised these parents that she would return only obedient, respectable girls that the parents could be proud of. There was much unsaid in that promise. Much unsaid indeed.

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Marsha Wellington was a pretty 35-year-old with long black hair. Her face was beautiful, 34b, 24, 38 body was still desirable to most men even after two children. While she felt that her hips were a little large, her ass was still sexy in what her husband referred to as a "J-Lo fashion". Marsha and her husband John had taken their two children on vacation for spring break.

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Since she was very young Robin was fascinated with the male body. Growing up she was lucky enough to catch her stepbrother masturbating while she hid in the closet and was initiated to the secret world of males. The image of him, the unabashed pleasure he took in his own body, the ripple of an orgasm and the loud primal moaning as his seed burst from the head of his penis, began an obsession in her for the rest of her life.

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A few months had passed since the night Julie had been raped and forced to have sex with her son, Lance. The two of them spent considerable time following her birthday barely talking. Both embarrassed by what had transpired. And both knowing that they had been sexually fulfilled by the experience.

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