Your erotic stories

She was the reason he came in every morning.. He really didn't like coffee enough to pay $4.50 a cup but knew her schedule by heart. He knew from her nametag that she was Maria and had started greeting her by name as he ordered. She would smile and say good morning to him like she did to the other customers before him but it made his heart jump just the same. She was not the youngest worker in the shop but she was the only one who made his heart race. He would change lines when she wasn't looking to be sure it was her that waited on him.

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(Hi everyone! I have wanted to submit a story for years, but have never completed one that I was happy with. So, I decided to just to go for it by submitting this. I really want you to have an enjoyable time with it and feel free to give a first timer some critiques. So, I will stop my ramblings and let you get on with reading!)

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Mady, short for Madeline was riding high, she sat on the plane gazing out the window, here she was about to make one of the biggest deals her firm could capture, Mrs. Madeline Goddard could even get a department all to her self, the boss, she stifled a giggle. She contemplated her life, once Miss Madeline Stokes, then Mrs. Madeline Jensen, she pondered on that short failed marriage, was it her fault she lost the baby, was it her fault she couldn't have children now, was it her fault he wanted them and ended her happiness, was it?

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"What a conniving bitch" was all I could think. When I had turned eighteen in June my foster mother could have kicked me to the curb but she hadn't. Relief first struck me then suspicion. My foster mother wasn't exactly Mother Theresa, there had to be a catch. It wasn't obvious at first what was really going on. The condition for my remaining was simple, I had to pay my way. Plus she would need a little for rent. No problem.

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You hot, horny, cock-craving slut. I know every slutty thought that goes through your dirty mind. I know what you need like no one else ever will, and bitch, I'm gonna prove it, right now.... That's what you want, isn't it, slut? A man who will prove it. A man who won't take no for an answer. I've been watching you through your windows at night, you whore. You moan on the phone like a slut in heat, while you cram sex toys inside your creamy wet fuckholes.

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My wife had not been sleeping lately, I knew something was on her mind, I knew in her own time she would eventually come around and discuss it with me. What caused the change? I did not know, I could only associate it to a weekend away about two months ago. She had traveled to Cape Cod alone to take a weekend class, upon her return I noticed something was different.

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Veronica felt distinctly uneasy and it was easy to see why. Here she was, clad in what could only pass as a porn version of a bikini – and about to be paraded in a room full of chinamen. Not that she was a stranger to her husband's predilection to engineer compromising situations for her, but this was quite honestly audacious even by Tom's standards.

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Christine knew she was in trouble as soon as she rounded the corner. She hated walking around in cities she didn't know, but hated the thought of taking a cab a lousy six blocks even more. Now she was just three blocks from the hotel, but clearly not where she wanted to be. The gang of college-age looking boys spotted her immediately in the late evening sunlight. They saw her blonde hair, hourglass figure, tight slacks and sleeveless blouse. They saw that she was alone.

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I watched Anne get out of her Executive's car and stride purposefully towards the hotel entrance, she was every bit the beautiful, professional, confident woman her husband, James had told me she was. She was a bit older than I was used to, I tend to like them in their mid to late twenties but for a woman over 40 she did not look bad at all as she stepped into the revolving door of the hotel and approached the reception desk.

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Bethany put the girls to bed. Then she went downstairs to the living room to watch television. She began to feel bored. It was only eight o'clock, and Mrs Boxwell wasn't expected home until ten or later. She sighed. After flipping through the channels, she put down the remote and went into the kitchen. On the counter she found a set of keys. Curious, she wondered what they were all for. Just eighteen, a senior in high school, Bethany considered herself a good student and always the good girl.

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