Your erotic stories

I had just received promotion and was now in a much more senior position. I'd worked my butt of to get this promotion. Mind you, I'm well aware that some people have implied that I'm a back-stabbing bitch, but they're the losers. You have to be ruthless to get ahead in this world. Business is a dog eat dog world and this bitch is quite capable of taking her share and fending off challengers.

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Hot piss marches up my chest, over my chin, and into my eager mouth. Piss fills my mouth only to flow over my chin and down my chest, still warm. He's thin and not very tall, which make's his big cock look massive. I swallow and while his bladder is still emptying, lean forward and take his cock in my mouth.

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The boy had no real name. He was the tanner's get, below even the whore's runts, responsible for soaking the hides in urine. The tanner called the child "Boy," long after the boy had left childhood behind. The town was large enough that most forgot to which tannery the young man belonged; everyone called him "the tanner's boy" for so long that it became his moniker.

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I've been working as an escort in Cardiff for a few months now. I was a late starter -- I've just turned 54 years old -- but I've been surprised just how much business I'm getting. I used to do it part-time, but I've given up my job as a school secretary now and see men every week day. I only work during the days, not evenings, and my dull husband Don doesn't suspect a thing.

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The night started out like any other night at the restaurant. I was making a killing in tips, thanks to my abundant flirting. I could only guess that my 21 year old body wrapped in the uniform didn’t hurt either. The uniform was the traditional tight white shirt and the orange shorts. We were also required to wear pantyhose and sneakers to complete the look.

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Greg stood at the counter in the office break room sipping his coffee and watching the pert ass in front of him jiggle from side to side. Rose had her head buried in the office fridge, searching for her carton of yogurt that she had brought in earlier that day. She brushed aside a rather old looking bologna sandwich, and a carton of milk, and with an exasperated sigh, turned to glare at Greg.

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Dressed all in white she was the sweetest thing. He had to be gentle with her. Lightly he pulled her to him, and kissed her. She yielded, opened her mouth to receive him and placed a hand on his shoulder. His lips barely touched hers, yet they felt so sensual. Hardly touching her, his lips teased her, making her want more.

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The warm afternoon sun felt good on Nancy Horne's legs. So did the feeling of her husband's hand on her inner thigh and his fingers lazily caressing her soft skin. She smiled, looking down at Bill's hand on her, just below where he had pulled the hem of her skirt up to uncover her shapely, tanned legs. Her golden blonde hair shimmered in the sun and her brown eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement. When Nancy saw her husband's hand begin to disappear under her skirt and inch towards her damp panties she placed her hand on his wrist, stopping him.

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A glorious night in London. My first glimpse of London - how alive it is at night! A light meal following some sightseeing and people-watching. I had a delightful concoction of beef, chicken, and mango at a Chinese restaurant. The theater - a thriller with a twist and a lesson. A rambling stroll from Trafalgar Square to Piccadilly.

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A few days ago, I got a call from Gabrielle, inviting me over. We are good friends and sometimes go places together but when she invites me to her apartment, it is always for the purpose of making love, and that is fine with me. Gabrielle is very pretty, beautiful, even, in her late thirties with a flat stomach and muscular thighs from kickboxing and working out six days a week. She has short brown hair, impish green eyes and, I think, a great figure even though her breasts are rather small.

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