Your erotic stories

"Julie?" I heard a voice ask. As I turned around, I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. The woman attached to those eyes was a tall brunette with blonde highlights, a curvy body and ample cleavage that was highly visible in the low-cut shirt she had on. I took a minute to look her over before answering.

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I just couldn't stand it anymore. I had to know why. I was so sick of being a pushover, letting her have her way in regards to everything, whether it was when we were shopping or fucking. It didn't matter, I tried to always play the nice guy and let everything go to make her happy. And yet she had dumped me. Like yesterday's trash, I was gone.

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I pulled into the parking lot outside the local Office Depot. I parked the car and was headed for the door when I noticed a mildly attractive woman walking toward me, on her way to her car. She was on the tall side, probably around 5'7" with short dark hair and wearing a rather plain summer dress. As she got closer, she looked in my direction and gave me a slight smile in a shy sort of way before quickly looking down at the pavement.

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My name's Dave and I just graduated from High School and my Dad told me that I needed to find a summer job before going to college. He told me to stop by a department store in the mall and ask for Mark. He was an old friend of my Dad's from his school days. I had been out all day looking for a job and it wasn't looking good. So I did what my Father told me and went to the department store. Mark wasn't there so I filled out the application for the job. Then I went by my best friend's house Bob to see if he was having any luck in finding a job.

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Sadie was ready to say her final goodbye to the man who had dominated her mind for the past four years. His name was Bruce, and they had shared a volatile, passionate love affair online. Both were married, both had children, and both had an obsession for each other. Over the course of the four years, the couple had fought and made up more times then either one could ever dream of counting.

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Author's note: The following is a scene I wrote as part of my NaNoWriMo challenge. NaNoWriMo is a project that centers around National Novel Writing Month which is November. The challenge is to write a 500,000 word novel in a months time. The point isn't necessarily for all of it to be *good* but to get something workable completed. As we all know, everyone wants to write a novel- someday. NaNo is just the thing to turn *some*day into *to*day.

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It had been almost a year since Emile and I went on our life-changing Cruise to Alaska and met Tom. Emile is back to being her friendly, positive self and is doing reasonably well in college. Her grades should be better but after Tom finished with her, she decided to like men. They take a lot of time away from her studies but it is wonderful for me to see her smiling and happy again.

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It started for Vicky one evening when she answered the phone. "Is that Victoria Mannering? My name is Roger Simpson," said a warm voice. Vicky was pleasantly surprised at a stranger pronouncing her name correctly instead of following the spelling. "Yes. What can I do for you Mr. Simpson?"

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I don't know what it was with Emma, but just about everything was a first for her. She'd never smoked pot until the night we met. She'd never sixty-nined until about three hours later, when I spent an enjoyably frantic ten minutes with her lovely breasts mashed against my stomach, her skilled mouth doing a real number on me as I tried to return the favour.

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From the outside it looked like a nice upper middle class home, but in reality it was a studio for shooting porn. We, meaning my sister and I, were sitting on a huge white couch. My sister was wearing only a pair of red boy cut panties and a matching bra. She was wearing a bit more makeup than I was used to seeing her wear. With her shoulder length blond hair she still had that girl next door look, but the look was starting to edge toward slutty girl next door. I was wearing jeans over a pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt.

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