Your erotic stories

The music thudded and pulsed through the private party. Female escorts provided for the evening mingled with executives and local politicians who networked and chatted in the bar area, or who clustered round the raised stage, waving paper money and begging for the dancer's attention.

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Rats! 99 again. Will it never cool off? Barefoot, cutoffs, and a blouse with only the bottom button fastened, I hurried to the mailbox. Just the electric bill. Why'd I even waste my time? Feels like I just walked over the stove for a lousy bill. Probably should have put on some sandals. Walking back, a moving van drove through the parking lot. I guess I'd remembered seeing it at the other end of the building, just didn't pay much attention. What a hard ass job on a steamy day like this.

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My birthday party is tonight and the future father of my children, Chance, has arranged everything. We've been together for 7 years now and if it wasn't for me holding back, we would have been married by now. But I am the luckiest girl in the world because Chance has made it plenty clear that he's not going anywhere.

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All characters are 18+. This is my first submitted story and I would welcome any advice on how to further improve my writing skills. Enjoy! ***** The back door was shut slowly. A quiet wine emanating from the hinges as the latch flicked into place. A small, young raven haired girl turned around. Her beady eyes looking towards the clock upon the kitchen wall. It read 1:36.

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Mary woke early the next day, a night of restless dreams tormenting her. It had been the ultimate test of her self-control not to take Mark back to bed, instead of them both clearing the debris from her divorce party. Even now, almost a whole day later, there was a warm ache between her thighs and she could feel herself becoming moist at the thought of his trim body. He had revelled in her body, pleasuring and being pleasured by her, even though she was old enough to be his mother.

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Brad dictated the last of the letters to his secretary and asked her to type them up and have them on his desk in the morning as he was leaving for the day as soon as he made a few phone calls. When he got off the phone after the last call, he stretched his large, athletic frame and stopped for a moment to reflect upon his good fortune in winning his recent election to the House of Representatives.

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I chose my route home from work with some care, because I like to look at the hookers by the airport. I usually count the obvious ones, the ones that are dressed to sell themselves and are looking for a score. I just like to look... the thought of tempting fate by hiring one is a little bit much for me. You never know when you're picking up a cop on a sting operation, or the carrier of some horrible disease. But seeing the girls out selling sex was always a turn on for me.

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Geoff Larsen, (of course that isn't his real name), is the President of Marketing. His office is located four doors down the hall from my own and, being President, his office is a corner unit making it almost twice the size of my own with a fully equipped bath complete with a whirlpool, a corner shower and a laundry chute that heads straight to the basement of the facilities where the gym is located.

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I was on business in the Fire Island area of New York. Checking into a small motel I was surprised to see the small, old, Jewish-looking man behind the counter, in effect, checking me out. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or get annoyed by his eyeing me and smiling at me in what could only be described as a leering way.

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The three Henchmen were sat around a wooden table playing cards when justice came calling for them. They wore rough masks (little more than balaclavas with eye-holes torn in them); workmen's boots; and plain overalls adorned with a symbol of a long shadow trailing behind a man's outline. Three handguns and a bottle of whisky lay alongside the pile of money that they played for.

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