Your erotic stories

At twenty six, I had worked in the maintenance department of the office building for something like eight years. It was a go nowhere kind of job, but no one really bothered me, and I was more or less my own boss. The tenants of the building ranged from travel agents, to wholesalers, and even one attorney. None of which were very interesting people as far as I was concerned.

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Tawny and Bryce had been married a little over a year now. Both very much still in love with each other, and Tawny, still in the tender years of sexual exploration. She was four years younger than Bryce, who was twenty eight. They met at a mutual friends party about two years prior, and both became madly in love at their first meeting.

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I strolled through the local park, one warm April evening. It was just getting dark, and the path was clear in front of me. There was enough light for me to finish my circle and head for home. I usually jogged for exercise, or took a trip to the gym, and it showed. But I enjoyed a pleasant walk as well.

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Most people have some talent at which they excel. Me, I'm a maestro of the movie camera. I've been doing media studies and I found that I had an amazing knack for getting the best out of a camera. This led to me getting an offer I couldn't refuse. Not from The Godfather, happily, but from a wannabe rock band at our school.

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I stand and watch her walk toward me. Her fingers are cool and dry as she places the collar around my neck, nimble as they buckle it in the back, the leather touching my skin all the way around, not tight, only touching. I feel her breath stir my hair. A snort of laughter escapes me and I stifle it quickly. She pauses, her hands still on the buckle, and leans around to look at my face. "Yes?" she inquires, lifting an eyebrow, that same slight half-smile barely curving her perfect dark lipsticked lips.

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The problem with being the kind of girl you bring home to mom is that boys don’t want to really fuck the potential future mother of their children. Sure, they’ll make love to you, but there really are times when a girl wants to be slammed into, spanked, and told nasty things. Save the respect for the living and dining rooms, but in the bedroom…

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One Saturday afternoon in September 2004, Dan was lying on his couch watching college football when his phone rang. A friend of his from work was on the other end. "Dan, this is Scott, what's up?" "Just watching the end of the USC game. What are you doing?" "I've been in the office all day and need to meet Lauren for dinner at 8 or so. Wanna grab a few drinks with me before." "Mmm, sure. I'm supposed to meet a few friends later. Mind if I have 'em meet us?"

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Judy is a strange woman. My eyes rake over all the potential targets in the club, locking onto her 34C-24-34 figure, taller than most of the women at 5'8", slim, maybe 120 lbs soaking wet. Great as all that is, it isn't what holds my gaze. Her hair looks like it is living fire, moving around her head as she stands in the breeze of one of the fans aimed at the dance floor.

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Music pounding through the cavernous room. Bright lights on the cat walk, as the men dance down around the pole. Rhythmic gyrations and choreographed steps, as they strip off their clothes... bit by bit. It is better than the movie... No drama and far more action. On platforms against the wall more men sway to the beat. They are dressed in the briefest of spangled underwear, or leather g-strings.

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I was so nervous that first day when I walked through the door to her office. I almost hadn't showed up. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to wear, and I almost decided it wasn't worth it. "This isn't going to help anything, anyway. I don't know what I'm even going for." I didn't know why I was so nervous.

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