Your erotic stories

I work as a saleswoman for a company that markets adult products. The pay is low, the travel constant and the hours unsociable. But it's all I can get at the moment. Mostly it's parties or fundraisers I go to, usually held in someone's home. The fundraisers are nearly always mixed events. Although I sell more this way, I don't look forward to them.

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Jennie was a brat; an eighteen year old well developed brat, but a brat nonetheless. She didn't really mean to be a brat, but she really disliked being told what to do. She especially disliked being told what to do by her mother's boyfriend. He really was a nice guy who had inherited her as a dependent by virtue of being with her mother. He just had different ideas on raising kids, especially a teen daughter, than her mother did.

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Katrina purred contently as she stretched out on her plush sofa waiting for her fiancé Bret to come home. It had been nearly a week since the last time she'd seen him and they'd only been together long enough for a nooner before his work dragged him across state lines and away from her bed but he was going to be back soon and he was going to lose his mind when he saw her.

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Things were going great at the office, we were making a ton of money and I had moved into managment as Mark's right hand man. We had closed deals that usually never were closed and things were going crazy. Mark had set up an office party that promised to be a huge blow-out. He rearranged the top floor of our building to make it one open area with food, a bar, dance floor, and a jazz band.

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In the end, it was easy. A young man, full of the dewy, visceral urges of youth; his lust controlled him... we simply catered to his lust. Gods, he was a beautiful sight - dark hair, streaked with sun, casually flowing down in waves over his shoulders... smoky, soulful mocha eyes that gave away his every emotion, and all the struggles within; including when he finally lost those battles...

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Isobel and Armand would be amused if they knew that I had been seeing a 'shrink'. They always used to think me such a strait-laced, even bourgeois little girl: a perfect English rose. But they shouldn't be so surprised because it was they who set me on the path that led to Dr Damon's door. And often, as I'm lying on his couch, sharing with him my innermost feelings about life and love and relating to him my dreams and fantasies, I often say a silent prayer of thanks to them.

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She leads him by the hand into the bedroom. There she slowly takes off his clothes, grazing him with only the lightest of touches. She goes behind him and ties his hands together with a black scarf; the silky fabric is smooth against his skin. She takes another scarf and ties it around his eyes; he's now in darkness.

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I was very happy for my mother when I found out that Cindy was coming to visit. It was late June. I had finished school for the year and had not found a summer job yet -- although I was in no hurry to accomplish that. Mom was still getting over her divorce from my father almost a year ago and she desperately needed to have some fun. I had tried my best to bring her out of the doldrums that she was in, but I guess there's only so much an eighteen year-old son can do. I was hoping that a week with Cindy was what she needed to rejuvenate herself.

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Wow, I said to myself, you've come a long way, girl, in the past six months. I glanced over at the girl sleeping beside me in bed, at the long, shapely legs and the full, chocolate breasts that I had enjoyed so much over the past several hours. On the floor around the bed were scattered pieces of clothing - a pretty top here, a pair of shorts over there, and nearer the bed, a lacy bra and a pair of damp panties frantically stripped off and discarded in a lustful frenzy.

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Gail Davis watched the young man, perhaps in his mid-to-late twenties, climb out of his sports car and walk towards the office of her small real estate business in rural New Jersey. As she did so, Gail began to feel an immediate moistness between her legs. Not much older than my oldest daughter, she thought, eyeing him through the tinted window, feeling her nipples stiffen through the confines of her half-bra and cotton blouse. Other than her frequent masturbation sessions, her nipples hadn't been this hard in far too long.

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