Your erotic stories

When Trevor came in to the Environmental Awareness Center at ten a.m. for his Wednesday volunteer shift a new receptionist was on duty. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, a rosy blemish-free complexion and a buxom chest. "Hi, I'm Trevor Bridges," he said extending his hand, "are you a new volunteer here?"

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Over two months had passed since Jake Barlow escaped from the prison in Tennessee. The first two or three weeks had been rough. First, on foot, he'd headed for Gainesville, Georgia, because that's where a buddy of his had been living the last he'd known. When he got there, however, he learned that his friend was long gone.

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She was awakened as she had been so very many times before... By the exquisite feeling of a talented tongue lapping relentlessly between her legs. She had almost come to expect the morning ritual that she loved so dearly. Her husband Peter always managed to wake in the morning just a few minutes before she and very early in their relationship had taken to waking her by crawling under the bed covers and finding her well-rested pussy ready and waiting for him.

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Recently I was on a business trip to Ft. Lauderdale area and was online at Craig's List to find a handy man to help with a house I own there. I had heard about this website, but never tried it before. After I posted an ad, I noticed a personals section, and decided to see what was there. I eventually found myself at Erotic Services, and felt myself getting quite excited, especially when I clicked on the m4m link.

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It was the closest I've ever been to hell, and heaven, on this earth. My name is Christine Wonderle. I'm a divorced, 32 year old small transport plane pilot in Alaska, one of the hundreds of "bush pilots" that earn their living in Alaska, ferrying people and goods from small town to encampment, and back again. Alaska is pretty much as wild as people picture it, with many areas only accessible by plane or boat. I'm good looking, and don't lack for dates, but I'd been working hard on my business, so I didn't get out much socially.

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Dark had already enveloped us while the sun continued its slow crawl down the horizon, the red and purple western sky barely visible above the tops of the soaring white pines, the dim light of dusk lacking sufficient strength to penetrate the forest to the dirt road our car bounced along. The woods swallowed us.

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Okay, so a little about me. I am 48 years old, 6'1", 185 lbs, single (divorced many years ago), live on Cape Cod but love to travel and am an independent investor. Last September, I drove to one of my favorite North American cities, Montreal. My intent was to research several local companies and as well as to soak up the local culture. I am convinced that many of the most gorgeous women in the world live in Montreal. Unlike most parts of the States, many of them dress in a sophisticated manner and show real outward personality. Their accents also drive me crazy. Unfortunately many of them smoke cigarettes but that is a complaint for a different venue.

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I met Tracy my senior year at The University of Texas in Austin, what we all considered to be the 'real' U of T. She was a year behind me and was also a business major though she was headed to finance and I was aimed toward marketing and advertising. So, she was a numbers drone and I was a 'flack.'

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I'm Michael, twenty-eight years old and in the Army now for ten years. I've been all over the world but my favorite place so far is Israel. Maybe it's because what happened several years ago when I was sent there in a cross training exercise with the Israeli IDF. I had been in just three years and had only turned twenty-one. I was part of a training mission that paired Israeli soldiers with US soldiers here in the states.

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The bus ride started out innocently enough, but then most major events do. If anyone really knew what was going to happen to them at the end of the day—or night for that matter—would they board the bus, or would they stay home? Would you drink that last glass of wine and stumble out into the rain with only a knee-length vinyl rain slicker to cover your nudity, or would you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain on the roof? I'd probably do it all over again.

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