Your erotic stories

What a rotten day! What happened to 'the best years of your life'? I thought being eighteen was supposed to be everything a girl could ever want. Well my life sure proved that theory wrong. Dad had left Mom back in August for a bitch that was almost young enough to be my sister. And for the first couple of months he'd actually acted like he thought I could like that whore! And then they had moved. Somewhere out west, I think. We hadn't heard from him since. I guess he deposited the support directly into Mom's account until a few weeks ago when I turned eighteen. And then that stopped, too.

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You knew you wanted this. How warm his breath feels, coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. How strong his hands are, one twisted up and fisted in your hair, exposing your throat... how sweet his tongue feels against your skin as he's tasting the sweat glimmering in the moonlight. How blissfully forceful he is, giving you exactly what you need... exactly what you crave. He's all around you.

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I had turned into somewhat of a zombie over the last few months , working constantly and moving more product than I had in years , not that I needed the money or the rush of a constant danger of rivals or being caught by the feds.

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Honours year, and the going was tough. Going to uni at hours I didn't know existed, to check up on experiments. Going to uni on weekends, for God's sake. Writing methods, hypotheses, tabling results, hoping against hope that things would go OK - there's no margin for error as an honours student. At the end of the week, there was little I could do other than collapse into my bed and sleep.

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I do a fair amount of traveling and like many guys I have a picture of my wife on my laptop to remind me of her when I'm away from home. It's not the kind of picture, however, that I would use as wallpaper or a screen saver. It's a photo for my own private viewing. In the photo, Anne is reclining on a leather couch wearing a lacy black bra which barely covers her beautiful 34C breasts.

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"What are you staring at?" said Julie as she came up silent on slippered feet beside her friend Elaine, who was gazing out of the picture window. Elaine turned with a smile. "Nothing much. My future, I suppose." "Future, huh? And what do you see?" "Loneliness." "Why? You're still young." "Forty next birthday, divorced for the second time, and haven't been laid in almost three years."

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I walked into the apartment and heard unmistakable sex noises coming from the room of our roommate, Leah. There was loud moaning and grunting, and the bed rhythmically slamming against the wall. OK, I should start from the beginning. Early in my relationship with my girlfriend, Lauren, we had a two-bedroom apartment downtown. The second room was mostly unused until Lauren's friend Stacy had mentioned that her best friend, Leah, was starting law school nearby and needed a place to live.

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My wife Sara and I were out celebrating our third anniversary. She was 34 at the time and I 37. We had no set plans and decided to begin with dinner at a nice restaurant. We finished both our dinner and the pitcher of margaritas we ordered. Upon leaving decided that neither of us should be driving. Instead we decided to walk around the city.

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Coming out of the bathroom, hair still wet from my shower, I stop before the bed. It's all there. He's laid it all out for me, and the tension that I had been feeling all afternoon ratchets up another notch. "Oh, god, oh god," I mutter, not really aware of what I'm saying.

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Introduction Sandie had just turned eighteen a month ago but she was so tiny – barely 5' 1" – and with such a pixy face, that she could have passed for 12 or thirteen. Adding to the image of youth was her long sleek black hair, which hung straight to her waist. Whenever I saw her lounging by their pool in her one-piece bathing suit over our neighbouring fence, I swore she had no breasts to speak of.

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