Your erotic stories

It was supposed to be her night. It was her birthday on Friday, and it was a long hard week at work for Rose. All she asked for was a nice dinner, some dancing, and then to be brought home and tended to. She even made arrangement for the kids to go to her sisters, so he could take the entire weekend to please her.

read more

Dave had wanted to be crucified for as long as he could remember. He was brought up in the Catholic religion and even though the religious side of things had never made much sense to him he found the images of the crucifixion and the scourging erotic beyond words. He had long kept his fantasies to himself until he saw a personal in his local newspaper.

read more

Thanks to all those readers who have asked for more chapters in this series. I never thought of writing a series but because you have continuously asked for more from this story, I have done my best to comply. We all live multi-faceted lives (I don't have time to write but once or twice every other week) but I will try to write new chapters and follow-ups to my other stories too. Thanks again to all those readers who have emailed with kudos, I live and write for them. For those who write saying they don't like something, thanks too but only when it is constructive criticism. I'm learning to be a better writer. That being said, lets move on to Jenny and her pretty mouth.

read more

Denise lived next door to my family as I grew up in a small city in Australia. She was married to a guy who never grew up, drank a lot and treated her poorly. Their home was littered with his empty beer bottles and her empty dreams. My Dad would often say she was a pretty woman who deserved a whole lot better in life. Denise was originally a country girl and in Australia that meant there was a certain something about her.

read more

It was about 3 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon, and everybody was winding down at work. Another long day inside a gray glass and steel skyscraper. My boss stopped by and looked at the paltry pile in my inbox and suggested I take the rest of the day off. Big deal, two extra hours. I had to wait for the train after 5 anyway. Two hours to kill. What to do? I wandered out into the street, slipped into a bookstore for a few minutes and then walked towards the train station. Then I remembered the massage parlor.

read more

Something Monica loved to do a few times a week, when she could, was to go canoeing on the lake adjacent to campus. That was one reason she decided to go to college here, because the campus was located on a large lake, a lake big enough to canoe on for hours on end. She usually canoed alone. She enjoyed the serenity of being by herself out in the middle of the big, tranquil lake, gliding along silently across the smooth waters.

read more

It was a night for reunions. I hadn't seen Stacy in ten years. Running into her at the grocery store had been such a pleasant shock, that I couldn't stop thinking about her the entire time I was getting ready to go out. I had already told my husband, Sam, all about her. In my stories of our times together, I had described her as the closest person to my fantasy woman I had ever met. She still was.

read more

"Slow tonight, huh?" The "mixologist" glanced up at me through her blonde bangs as she poured my drink. They weren't allowed to be called bartenders... something to do with not having a liquor license, not wanting to attract the attention of the authorities to a club like this.

read more

I was Acting Head Copy Chief in a big ad agency. Acting, because I was not a full time employee, but a freelancer, as they call self-employed contractors in the ad business. Things were booming and the agency was stretched. With the typical lack of loyalty and 'sell yourself to the highest bidder' attitude of that crazy business, job jumping was rife and good employees were on a merry-go-round of moving from agency to agency. Hence the agency's need for an 'Acting Head Copy Chief.'

read more

"I think he's signaling to you, sugar." I'd stopped to talk to the two guys who regularly positioned themselves at the corner of 4th Street Northwest in Albuquerque and the alley in which I temporarily resided in a cardboard carton. I hadn't been there long following a relocation from Las Vegas and, although I'd found some work as a gofer on a high-rise construction project downtown, I didn't have near enough funds yet to rent a room—or even to have three squares a day.

read more