Your erotic stories

I am an eighteen year-old, just. My parents are divorced and I live with my dad. We get along well, going to football games together etc. but every now and then his work will mean he's away for a few days, which causes him to feel guilty. "Are you sure you'll be alright Jack?" he'd said looking very concerned. "I'll be fine dad", I assured him.

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Part 1: The Rape You stumble out of the club and call a taxi. I pull my cab up along side you and you get in giving me your destination. I notice at once that you are very good looking. Not the usual late night trashy skirt, but more poised and elegant. Even though you are obviously slightly the worse for drink you speak clearly and confidently. You are calm and confident and very sexy.

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Chapter 1 He vaulted the 6 foot fence energetically and immediately dropped to the cool dewy grass. He crouched there like a panther; panting, watching, his heart racing with the thoughts going through his head. He took a minute to review what he saw. A house in front of him lit by moonlight, just big enough and stately enough to be of good breeding, and he knew what that breeding would bring with it. He waited and watched to be sure there were no traps that he would fall straight into.

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I still don't know exactly how I got myself into that situation. It may have been a bet, It may have been a dare, or it might be that I was tricked. The upshot of the entire affair is that I found myself with my neighbor's 18 year old son manhandling me and eventually fucking me senseless. Perhaps I need to start at the beginning with a description of myself and my marriage to Jim. We had been College sweethearts who married and have been together for 10 years this November.

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It has been for some time now that both me and my girlfriend, Rosa have given each other little hand-made love coupons. Imagine my surprise when Rosa gave me one about 3-4 months ago that said, "Good For One Lovemaking Session In A Whirlpool!" Well, I've ALWAYS enjoyed a good heated whirlpool and eagerly awaited the weekend.

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Sarah hadn't noticed Tony before, any more than she noticed the ten other people who worked under her, anyway. He was typical of the young men who came to Pine River Foods, tired of flipping burgers for minimum wage, but with no college education to get a "real" job - basically the same reason she was still there after nine years. The pay was better than minimum, the benefits were good, and there was little or no knowledge or skill requirements to be hired.

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Several years ago I attended a small southern college. Our fraternity house was adorned with a statue of our mascot and a favorite campus prank was to paint it. It was general knowledge on campus that those caught would be shaved bald and though the mascot was often painted, rarely was the culprit apprehended. The alternative was calling the police and even though it amounted to only malicious mischief, a criminal record was a criminal record.

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Jane Pretty looked at the watch on her wrist. Girard Perregaux : a Swiss watch, tasteful and elegant. Like her suit: Chanel ready to wear; prêt à porter, chic and professional. Single, thirty-seven, a high-priced therapist, she spent her money on fine things. It gave her satisfaction to surround herself with them. She crossed her legs, the friction of her pantyhose like a faint shimmer of sound, her black suede pumps stretching her ankle attractively, but not erotically, the toes not too pointed. She leaned over and sipped from her bottle of water.

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John Dorland pressed his foot down on the break, slowing the car down as he approached his usual stakeout spot and eased his navy blue unmarked police cruiser off the interstate and into a wide truck turnout, backing the rear of the Dodge Charger up under the cover of the maple trees that lined the turnout fifty yards from the edge of the asphalt. He turned off the headlights, leaving the engine idling, and flipped on the dash mounted radar, settling back into his seat for the remainder of his ten hour shift.

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I am a burglar by trade. It's not a bad job. You pick your hours, working as little or as much as you like. No boss to tell you what to do and, as long as your careful, no hassles. Mind you, I have more sense than to put down burglar on my tax returns. I'm a registered second-hand dealer and I do a lot of buying and selling over the internet. As long as I pay my taxes no-one bothers me.

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