Your erotic stories

It was Saturday night and it was getting close to the end of Angela's shift. She had learned long ago that dancing was a way of life and she was used to the long nights but her feet were sore and she was light headed from the 2 drinks she had had with a couple of the customers so this made her human and she longed to be in her room fast asleep. The money was good this week though and she couldn't complain about that, this job was the reason she owned an expensive sports car and a house, so she headed back out onto the floor to hustle a little more.

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Ashley Maynard was a beautiful 18-year old beauty with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Her slender lithe body and angelic face helped to make her one of the most desired girls in high school. She was both the Homecoming and Prom Queen during her senior year. After graduation her boyfriend, Ben Rogers, went off to college up state while Ashley remained at home attending the local community college.

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Tina shuffled her papers together and slid them into her bag. She had a new tutoring client, an unusual one, and she was interested in seeing how the session would go. She ran her tutoring business herself and distinguished it by tutoring one-on-one at clients' homes. Since most of her students were in middle school or high school, the parents appreciated not having to drive their kids to one more activity. The idea worked well and she was able to make quite a lot of money just from tutoring on weekday afternoons and Sundays.

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In the distant future, the environment is polluted and people have created societies inside of atmosphere-insulated bubbles. For socio-political reasons, the genders have completely separated and live in different societies. I sat nervously in my chair as her eyes scanned over my charts. Yesterday I had undergone a series of examinations for my yearly checkup, as was required of all citizens. Her cool blue eyes flicked up to mine.

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Bobby paused momentarily in order to rub his hard cock as he walked back to his apartment. His date that evening had ended disappointingly. He had high expectations when Angela, the head cheerleader of their college's football team, finally agreed to go out with him. He made reservations at the most expensive restaurant in their little college town. He dressed in his best suit and he looked great, especially since he normally dressed in jeans and a t-shirt for classes and on-campus parties.

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I joined the Navy fresh out of high school. Good paying jobs were tough to find in Western New York. The steel mills were shutting down. Heavy industry was re-locating down south and paying only one third of the previous wages. When my tour of duty was over I took the civil service test for Correction Officer and passed. My permanent assignment was at a Class-A Max, and eventually, I lucked out and got a wall tower on days.

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I force myself upon my girlfriend about twice a month. Such a statement sounds so cruel and negative I am obliged to explain it. Ours isn't a common situation and the explanation is quite lengthy. But I want to write about it, as I believe explaining the details will help me feel a little less guilty about the most exciting sexual relationship of my life.

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She is dancing with her friends in a club. The crowd is hyped up on the upbeat dance music, their bodies moving silhouettes, writhing rhythmically, bumping, grinding. It's pitch dark except for the intermittent movement of a great many colored strobe lights, the sparkle off the shiny disco ball dispersed across various surfaces in the room. She came here with a group of friends, guys and girls alike, celebrating the start of the weekend after a grueling workweek.

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I hear a knock on the door, looking at the time; I see that you're late. I let you stand outside for an extra minute to let you think that I have gone. I see you through the spy-hole and see that you're impatiently waiting. Looking at your watch, you knock again and after another minute you sigh, drop your head and turn to walk away. I let you get out of sight, and I open the door and flip the night latch out so the door closes on it, but does not shut. You turn to see the door open, and you walk back to my room.

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My name is Melody and I have always enjoyed struggling, with men. In fact the more intense physically, the better. Not violence, just the battle of his irresistible lust versus my immovable resistance. Perversely it turns me on. I get all wet and stimulated. My first boyfriend sweet-talked the pants off me. At 19, I lost my virginity in a cloud of lust and naivety.

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