Your erotic stories

On the year I turned eighteen I explained to my mother that now I was legally an adult I wouldn't bother to go with them to the country for our annual holiday. I'd stay home for a change. I could look after myself so there was no need for her to worry. My mother looked at me thoughtfully and told me to make sure I packed a decent jumper. I'd forgotten the previous year.

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Twice during the short night, she had woken in terror and struggled in his arms. Each time he had held her tightly comforting her, his calm voice reassuring her that no one would harm her again. Nuzzling and petting her until she slept once more, it took more will power than he knew he possessed not to take her each time she woke and his hands travelled over her lithe, supple body soothing her fears.

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Angie left the store and walked across the parking lot toward her car. She was a very attractive young looking, middle aged woman, medium height, full figured with short dark hair and deep brown eyes. She was dressed in a conservative business suit over a white silk blouse and is wearing dark pumps. She was tired after a long day. It was late, the stores were closing and she was carrying a bag containing a few items she picked up on her way home.

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Vaughn dug halfheartedly through his pocket looking for his keys. He had been off for the last two weeks and coming back to work was not something he had been looking forward to, especially after such a relaxing and peaceful vacation. He found his keys and reluctantly selected the master key, which would allow him onto the ward and open most of the doors in the psychiatric hospital where he had worked for the last several years as a nurse dealing with psychogeriatric clientele, most of whom were afflicted with Alzheimer's Disease or some type of dementia.

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"I'm so tired of today," thought Amisha. "I just want to get home and go to sleep. Is that too much to ask?" She had just finished an arduous day of work at her office and was on the way back from the restroom to her desk to pack up her things when her phone buzzed. As she checked it, she assumed it was her boyfriend, once again telling her that he was going out with his guy friends that night.

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My name is Annie, and this is my story about earning the scholarship that is getting me through college. This is my first time submitting a story, let alone my story to a site like this, but reading through, I'll go ahead and share about me at the time of the story. I'm a 19 year old girl from Washington State, going to school at a small, private liberal arts college in Canada. This story took place about a month into my sophomore year there. Myself, I stand at 5'5, about 135 pounds... I don't really look fat, I'm just built kind of bigger.

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I was working my shift at the local petrol station when she drove in. I had to do a double take to check that it was really her. It had been 10 years but sure enough it was her, Mrs Ramsey my old teacher, the teacher I'd hated for her mocking ways and superior attitude, the same one I had lusted after fantasising over her big breasts, dirty blonde hair, husky voice and raw sex appeal.

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She entered the stairwell and launched herself at the stairs, taking them two at time. She reached her apartment in no time, and was soon inside her place, locking the door behind her. She shed her clothing as she moved through the apartment, freeing her long, dark hair. She shook her head back and forth gently, causing the ends to caress the soft skin at the small of her back. She shivered slightly, nipples hardening, and made her way to the phone. She dialed her best friend's number and started to sing as it was answered.

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My name is Cindy and I've just turned eighteen last week. To begin with, my family is filthy rich. My father was usually away for extended periods; my mother preferred to circulate with her upper class, prissy acquaintances than to spend time with her children. Don, my elder brother, and I were therefore closer to our nanny than our own parents. When we were in our early teens the nanny was sacked and we were left to our own resources.

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It was a very pleasant date, all in all. She was lovely and funny, and the curves beneath her dress made me very aware of the hopeful bulge in my jeans. She seemed shy, though, and I did not feel quite ready for 'the talk' just yet. Still, when she insisted I come in for a while, I humored her. That was my first mistake. My second was accepting the drink.

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