Your erotic stories

Kevin reached for the keycard when his mother handed it to him, and fought the urge to grin. Her guilt trip had been working. After a month of insisting that he had to go on one last family vacation, because he would be going off to college and they were never going to see him, he was ready to cave. If she'd waited until he got home that evening instead of calling his cell with the offer to give him his own room, he'd be bunking up with his younger brothers.

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"He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff . . ."

The rich, resonating, calming baritone of the La Lectura began to weave Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea for us for perhaps the hundredth time, as we Torcedores settled once more into the rhythm of preparing our bunches of tobacco leaves perfectly for the press. We could not have done our demanding work without La Lectura, the reader who sat on the dais on the cigar factory floor, reading to us, first from the daily press and then from classical works—and sometimes, to our great privilege, reciting poetry to us in perfect rhythm to the set movements of our leaf bundling.

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Selina quickly checked herself in the bathroom mirror one last time. She'd been looking forward to tonight's job and her preparations had been meticulous. She smoothed down her knee-length black dress that clung to her, showing off her shapely body to full effect. The low cut neck-line showed off her décolletage, with just a hint of the lacy black basque she was wearing below it. Sheer black stockings and stilettos completed her outfit.

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Brooke asked if I would write this story. The theme is interracial lesbian domination. All the characters are real. All references to people and photographs are real. I've simply inserted myself into her world. The story ends at my last point of contact with Brooke. There may be more to come.

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The sweet odor of pipe tobacco encased the room. Mandy stared at the ceiling as she lay on the couch, her legs slightly spread. "You have to assert yourself," he told her. Mandy sighed for the umpteenth time. "I know. I know." "How can you expect to be taken seriously in a man's world if you act like a chicken shit." Mandy took the insult like she always did—lying down. The doctor was supposed to be the best, and a bit unorthodox, but he always left her feeling like the worst.

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Laure awoke mid-moan, rolling forwards, pressing herself against the flat warmth of the bed. Eyes still closed, a dull pain registered a fraction of a second after the waking of pleasure. The dryness of the roof of her mouth, the slowness of her tongue, and the thick weight of a movement induced headache contrasted strangely with the spreading heat of her groin and the languidity of her limbs.

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This is my first ever erotic story, based on the popular game Skyrim. Farkas is one of my favourite characters from the game, though I made some changes (and got him laid of course). I plan to write more sexual exploits with him in the future. Thoroughly enjoyed writing this! Feedback would be great to help write better and better stories in the future!

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Several years ago, my wife and I vacationed in Europe for two weeks. I knew that Europeans tend to be more casual about nudity and sex than Americans are, but I was still unprepared (as was my wife) when we decided to visit a spa (called "bad") in Germany. We took a tram up the side of a steep hill to the top and looked down over a beautiful view and a large pool with an even larger deck. "Oh my God," my wife exclaimed as she saw that almost all of the women were lying topless on the deck or soaking that way in the pool.

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"What the fuck are you doing?" David flinched, looked around furtively, and jerked his hand from his face as I entered his living room. He tried to hide the evidence in between the couch cushions, but I knew exactly what he had been doing. While I was taking a shower, he decided to raid my suitcase looking for used panties to sniff. He was still dressed, but his jeans were pulled down past his hips. The semi-hard cock visible through his boxers did nothing to convince me of his innocence.

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I tossed the trashy romance novel I'd bought onto the coffee table. Here I was, all alone, my son out with his father in California for the summer and what was my plan for Saturday night? To sit, all alone, and read a book. I sighed, got off the sofa and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. I turned on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. I was only 42 years old and I didn't have some of the wrinkles the girls I worked with had at my age.

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