Your erotic stories

For most people, a time comes, sometime along the way, where they find themselves in an economic jam. Something happens, something comes up, something goes amiss, and extra money is needed to fix it. Things like this can happen to even the most careful and responsible planners. Like Tara Smith.

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Chapter 1 Pam finished applying the body gel to her form. She rubbed the lathery soap all over, her skin tingling as the gel turned into suds. She grabbed the body brush and cleaned every location she could reach. When she had thoroughly scrubbed herself she turned the water back on making sure that the spray was warm, almost hot, as she rinsed the grim away with the suds.

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The rap of her boot heels echoing off the concrete walls was the only sound as she walked down the long line of cars, looking for where she'd parked. She'd been sure this was the row—13-D—but where was her car? She shifted her bags to her left hand where the black leather glove would keep the handles from biting into her and looked back over her shoulder through her blonde hair. Perhaps she'd walked past it? But there was no red Peugeot.

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"Where the hell am I?" Jane opened her eyes to a dark wooden ceiling, rafters sneaking along and supporting the termite infested pine beams, meeting in the middle. As she attempted to move her head and roll to her side, she realized her arms were tied tightly around her back, her ankles bound together, and a cloth stuffed deeply inside her mouth. The scream muffled in her throat as all the flashes of the night before came flooding back to her.

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I met my wife Karen at a dorm party in my second year at college. It was getting late and I'd just about given up any hope of hooking up with a girl, when an angel in pink scrubs walked into the room. She had long strawberry-blonde hair and the petite figure of a fourteen-year-old girl. I fell for her the moment I laid eyes on her. "Are you going to a Halloween party?" I asked after pushing my way over to her.

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Everything was almost done and boy, was I thankful. It had been such a busy day! You see, I'd moved earlier that day...my first new apartment on my own after my divorce. My phone was already hooked up and my power was on, now all I needed was cable...well, that and a shower. Who knew when they would show up, though.

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Standing at the bar, she glances at her watch. 'Maybe another hour,' she thinks to herself. The music is loud and she can feel the beat all through her body, making her hips move slightly back and forth as she waits for her drink to arrive. Three men stand about ten feet away, talking and watching her as she stands there in her tall black boots and short skirt. She glances their way and they all smile, making no effort to hide what they're thinking.

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Working the night shift at a convenience store can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially when I get those guys showing up one minute after midnight, telling me their watches say it's 11:58 and they want their fucking beer. Or the welfare breeder chicks with their four kids by different fathers who get their brats to buy ten-cent gumballs with a dollar food stamp, then use the change to buy cheap beer.

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It was 1849 Martha Petersen was just turned 18. She was the only child of Swedish immigrants who were slain by Indians on the trek west. Martha had been raised by the Cooper family, a childless couple on the wagon train that Martha's family had joined for the journey to a new life. Martha was a beautiful natural blonde girl, with blue eyes and stood at 5ft 2in.

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Chapter ONE Jordin Tyler knew the streets of Capitol City pretty well, but the Lower East Side was something else. The old "Bohemian" section of town had a lot of winding little cobblestone lanes and odd-shaped buildings. In the daytime it was quaint and picturesque, but on a dark, cloudy night with fog drifting in, it was easy to get lost there.

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