Your erotic stories

"My god this is a slow night! What the hell is everyone doing?" Constable Lydia Knightley was bored to tears, almost literally, and struggling to keep awake in the worst way. 2am on a twelve-hour night shift was the beginning of the nods, and with no action around, there was nothing but will power keeping her awake.

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The next day I had two classes and to be honest about it I might as well not even have gone. My mind was on Donna and her beautiful, sexy body. The day before had been wonderful and I was looking forward to making love to her again. I had almost forgotten about my promise to take her with me to see if those two hot teachers would return for another bout of sexy lovemaking.

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The Gold Lounge was about half-full. It was a Thursday night, the first night of the convention that brought her to Vegas. Her co-worker, who was also a good friend, had taken a taxi to the Barry Manilow show, and Joy had opted out. On account of her being Manilow-Intolerant, although she had simply feigned a deep desire to relax and explore their hotel.

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'Drink?' 'Sure!' – 'Yes please!' Heather and Kate spoke at the same time. They didn't really need another drink; they'd both had plenty at the nightclub. It had been several shots ago that what would happen tonight had become inevitable. Perhaps Kate was still a little nervous.

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It had been so long since I had seen you. I had convinced myself I had moved on; gotten past the addiction that was you. At first, I had lain awake, night after night, a hot ache between my legs, longing for you to be there, to feel your touch, to feel you possess me; but over time, the feelings faded to memories and I took a new lover, someone less exciting, but also less demanding. I convinced myself I was fine, I didn’t need your particular brand of fun. How wrong I was.

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I had just graduated at Wesley Women's Academy and along with five other girls was taking a summer course that was a combination of horseback riding and sex education. We had finished our morning ride and were standing in one of the barns dressed in our riding gear listening to Miss Chambers our sex teacher. She was a tall woman with a broad ass and huge tits. She wore her usual costume: comfortable shoes and a long, white lab coat over a knee length, blue skirt.

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Jessica had just finished getting ready to go out for the evening when Lisa arrived at Jessica's loft. They greeted each other and Jessica offered Lisa a glass of wine. Lisa quickly accepted. "So where do you want to go out to tonight?" Jessica asked. "Let's hit that new club just down the street. I wanna dance. Have you been there yet?" Lisa replied.

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"Well here it is the weekend already. Since we don't have to work tomorrow, how about we spend some "quality time" trying to give one another the most INTENSE single orgasm we possibly can," I said. It didn't take long for me to convince my wife to partake in my little orgasm challenge. We decided that the other would treat the winner of our little contest to dinner the next night.

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This was my first summer in New York City. The twin towers still stood, tall and proud, a much-needed landmark for a disoriented girl from Ohio exiting the subway into the intense confusion of the streets of Manhattan. I was twenty-one years old, underemployed, broke, and basically friendless in a big and intimidating city.

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The cabbie looked at me knowingly as I handed over his fare. I just smirked in return. He knew what a girl dressed like I was , what I was after and so did I. I was dressed like a dirty, fucking slut for good reason -- I was a dirty, fucking slut. I had come to this shattering realisation in the twelve months since my eighteenth birthday party (sucking off four different guys as a present to yourself can bring that realisation you know) and ever since I had realised how badly I craved first sex and then as kinky and as filthy sex as could be imagined.

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