Your erotic stories

We met at the park like we agreed to do on over the phone the night before. When I saw her sitting at the picnic table, my heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful. Black shoulder length hair and dark brown eyes. On the phone she told me she was half white and half Mexican. I had seen her picture on the internet profile and already knew she was beautiful.

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I met Nicole at a party. It was still early in the night, and she was standing alone, untouched drink in her hand. To my surprise, no guys were lining up to hit on this very attractive girl in a classic black cocktail party dress, but she definitely was giving a stand-offish vibe - she was obviously uncomfortable, waiting for a friend to come back. I was pretty much in the same situation, so I decided to use that to break the ice.

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Her heartbeat pounds out a familiar rhythm as she waits in the dark, stretched silently across the mattress like an offering, knowing he's on his way. The sensation of her pulse is primal. She's tried to fill the long desolate stretch of daylight hours, anticipation rising with the setting of the sun. A few more hours, a few more mundane tasks, a little more self control. It's a mountain she climbs daily, the precipice of which she now balances on, waiting alone in the tangle of blankets.

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I have this experience to blame (or thank) for all the many years of sexual deviance that followed. But first, a little bit of background. Like a lot of kids, the moment I turned eighteen, I left home. Only I didn't have college to go to, but a job designing web pages 1,500 miles from where I grew up in Texas. So I packed up and headed to Maryland, where I had already arranged to rent a cheap one bedroom apartment and start my new life.

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"What Have You Done, Miss Robinson?" Dolly's story continues. * Ever since that afternoon when Dolly was molested by three other Project girls with whom she and her closest and dearest friend Nitasha had run-ins ever since junior and senior high school days and who was forced to watch Claudette, Neesha, and Wanda have their way with her, their going down on Dolly with her beautiful platinum blonde hair on both her head and between her legs and having Dolly go down on Claudette's black, hairy pussy until she filled her mouth with all her pussy cream and ejaculate as well as her warm urine, their relationship turned around completely.

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Hi. This is my story. My name is Suzanne and I'm 37 years old. I live in Manchester in northern England. My first husband was a steady man but unexciting and once I left him for a fling with a more exciting man. But it didn't last and I went back to the marriage. Our marriage was our parents' idea and we were married at 20. He just wasn't an imaginative lover and not suggestive. Then he died after an accident at his work, so I was widowed in 2002 at the age of 28. I met Andy after about a year and we were married on my 30th birthday.

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Five o'clock was here and none too soon. This particular Tuesday had been a madhouse at work. Working at my computer terminal, answering the phone and talking to colleagues, often all at the same time, had taken its toll. My back and shoulders ached, and, to make matters worse, I'd overdone it at the gym during lunch hour on Monday. In a word, I was sore. The only good thing was that now it was time for my monthly massage therapy appointment. My spirits rose as I drove toward the small apartment that served as Randy's office.

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Gossip and a strap-on Willy listened to the two women who were chatting while putting on their make-up in front of the mirror of the ladies change room, while she sat in the toilet stall. "So what do you think of the new girl," one asked the other. "I sneaked a read of her file when she transferred in from New York, she seems to be a good cop," was the reply.

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Chapter 1 – Susan's typical life In a small town in a typical suburb, Susan was busily getting her family ready. She was just finishing sizzling up the bacon for the morning breakfast as her two children, Joseph and Michelle, were just sitting down for their food. Her husband, Brian, ran by her grabbed some bacon and ran out the door. "Late as usual" she thought to herself.

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"And what about you, Ma'am, how do you like to be fucked?" It's not a question you can ask every day, but.... They call it an expo, but really it's a junket - an unhealthy gathering of strong personalities swapping business cards, trading success stories and basically trying to out-pitch each other.

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