Your erotic stories

A trim blond with an amazing chest strutted by the glass front of my office. I watched her full breasts as they bounced with each step she took. "Molly," I called out, trying to calm the naughty thoughts that surfaced each time I saw that lovely body. The buxom blond stuck her head into my office. My eyes immediately drifted again to her ample chest. Molly has one of those chests that men dream about. Her full D-cups pushed at the fabric of her shirt, which was unbuttoned far enough to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage.

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Anna's parents came from Europe. Her father was a tall blond from Poland and her mother a red-haired beauty from Ireland. Yet poor Anna was stuck with the wrong branch of the DNA. She was six feet and then some in her socks. Her face was plain with a broad forehead, long jaw and beaked nose. Most of her height was in her legs. She wore men's jeans with a 30 inch waist and 36 inch inseam. Her hair was neither blond nor red but a sad mixture resulting in a rough brown. Her height served her well in obtaining a volleyball scholarship to college where she majored in business.

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I am a freshman in college and my dorm roommate is also. I am named April and she is named May. There, I got that over with. We didn't plan to room together, didn't even know each other, it fact the roster from which we were selected by our dorm leader was made up of last names – mine was Stengle and hers was Swanson – so it was actually last names starting with ‘S' that threw us together.

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Since the first time I came across her she was the sexiest woman I ever seen. I was alone in the break room at the office job I work at, since most everyone else ate lunch at the surrounding fast food places. I'm Joseph Sanchez, an average lookin guy that worked at this call center for a few months now and was still learning the ropes on helping people pay their water bills.

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All characters are at least 18 years old.. * I saw him while I was pumping my gas, and he immediately got my attention. For one thing, we don't get all that many walking in my neck of the woods, because there's a whole lot of nothing around for miles and miles. Secondly, he was walking in one of our patented torrential rainstorms, and with the wind blowing and the lightning crackling, this was no night for a hike.

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Synopsis; 'Plain Janes' are not always as they seem – some have been tutored by relatives who lurk in the background, waiting to receive those caught in a contrived web. Jane Whistler's appearance was that of a well groomed, prim and clean living girl. At 30, she appeared to have been left on the shelf. She rarely socialised, other than to indulge her workmates on rare occasions – she was rarely asked to dance by the males as she was considered to be flat, a bit fat- not like the beanpole women that the 'blokes' seemed to lust after-and very plain.

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We were all in the lounge - me, my wife Carol, our 22 year old daughter Zoe and our 19 year old son, Tom, with various bits of the Sunday paper and its numerous supplements spread around us. I was in my usual armchair, Tom was sitting opposite me, Zoe was sprawled on the sofa and my wife was lying face down on the floor.

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I've lived on a relatively quiet street for the past three years. Usually keeping to myself, focused on work and not much else, my routine has continued without much deviance for the duration. That was true, until a young hot Russian babe moved into the complex, just two doors down from me. It was a cool evening in September when I first caught glimpse of this fantastic blonde. I was out walking the dog, on my way to collect the day's mail when I first noticed the truck pull up.

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~~~~~ Hi! I don't know about you, but I have a serious wedgie fetish. It's my hope to continue to write on this theme and share some fun (fictional) sensual stories that will really get your juices flowing. First though, I wanted to give a little background on the wedgie fetish. Read on, hope you learn, then get ready for the REAL sexy stuff. Feel free to PM me with ideas, stories, or if you just want to chat.

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It was always a fantasy of mine to model for an artist. I do not think I really cared where the artwork would go, be it for personal use or to be on display for the world to see. It wasn't the fame or glory that I cared about. There is something exciting about striking a pose for someone to examine you in all your glory and imperfection, capturing your details into another form. Clay, paint, photos, charcoal drawing, all of it excited me.

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