Your erotic stories

She walked into his office knowing what this meeting was about. Earlier that day, Sarah had received an email from one of her professors wanting to discuss an important topic. While the email didn't specify what the topic was, Sarah knew her last paper was below standards. She had just started dating someone and, while she knew she shouldn't, Sarah was putting less effort into her school work and more into her new relationship.

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I grew up in a very small farming community. It was understood that when kids were old enough to get jobs, we would go to work. At age 14, I started working summer vacations in a grain elevator, a warehouse where area farmers bring their harvested grain to be stored. The harvest lasted from late July until early September, and the daily temperatures were consistently hovering around one hundred degrees.

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We are married for more than ten years. We are yet to be blessed with a child. I am Nidhi, a mixed North Indian offspring of a Punjabi father and a Kashmiri mother, I am now in my mid thirties. I have fair complexion, tall, slim and well developed boobs. My hubby Venky, a typical southee, would reach forty in another few months. He is tall and dusky.

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In the darkness of the room, my eyes close and I listen to my breathing and heartbeat. The sheets freshly laundered, the slight sweetness of the fabric softener fills my senses. Gradually my body warms the bed and I doze off in the enveloping warmth.

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My name is Brad and I'm huge. I'm talking 6'4 and 245lbs of muscle. To top it off, I'm a bear and I'm only 20. Imagine a bull in the china shop, that's me. I fucking hate it. I've always heard that we want what we can't have. That is so true. I wish that I was small and delicate but I'm not. I'm a big hairy oaf.

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It had been a busy week. Michelle was walking out to her car, deep in thought, distracted. She was glad it was finally the weekend. She'd been running her tail off all week trying to impress a new client and hadn't seen her boyfriend, Dave, since last weekend. Smiling at the thought, Michelle couldn't wait to see him. He had called today. He sounded mischievous, playful.

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"Well," Tom sighed, "what other romantic songs do we have for Valentine's Day? More Dean Martin?" The little piano bar was more crowded than on some nights. It had been a shore day, St. Martin. No big production show tonight, just one of those juggling comedians that seem to find their way on to cruise ships. Washed up, like him, flotsam bobbing against the shoreline, but not quite, not quite stranded yet.

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Adam had just turned eighteen. His aunt Kelly had sent him a plane ticket to come spend two weeks in Las Vegas with her and her daughter's Trina was twenty-one and Lisa was twenty-seven. He arrived at the airport at nine fifteen on a Wednesday evening. His cousins were waiting on him, holding a big sign that said Adam's Family. They always liked to joke around and he laughed at their sign.

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"You've got to talk to me, Babe." His fingers trailed down her throat...down her chest...over the curve of her breast, the nails leaving the slightest trace of redness in their wake. Her body arched instinctively, hungry for his touch. She writhed there, tugging at the nylon cuffs that kept her wrists bound over her head.

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I'm middle-aged, a former Naval Officer and currently a CPA. I have my own business with no other employees. I was married once, but she had a boyfriend while I was at sea. I kicked her out and have been alone since. I'm not complaining because I have many lady friends if you know what I mean. I own my own home in a nice residential neighborhood and the people there know I'm single. On one side of my house is a nice spinster lady with lots of animals.

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