Your erotic stories

To say that a month ago I was, on the face of it, prim and proper would be an understatement. Tim and I (Jane), met in our first year at high school and were inseparable from that time on and I guess it was always assumed by ourselves and our families that we would get married. Tim was everything I could have ever wanted - the proverbial tall, dark and handsome athletic sort, not to mention incredibly wealthy, once he had established himself in the family law firm which his grandfather had founded.

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The scarf was lying on top of a pile of magazines. The sheer fabric shimmered attractively. I couldn't resist. I had to touch it, feel it flowing over my fingers. I was more excited than I had ever been before. I reached out with a trembling hand and gently took hold of it, gasping at it's soft, slippery texture and almost letting it slide to the floor.

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It started with my first job after leaving school, as an assistant gardener-cum-handyman at a local stately house. I was interviewed by a rather handsome man in his fifties called Clive, and we seemed to hit it off right away, and I figured that must have helped me get the job. It seemed the ideal way to get a foothold into the whole gardening/landscaping industry, and after my first couple of days I knew I'd really landed on my feet. 

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The whole of the extended Franks clan had shown up for Christmas Eve. There were Franks from Denver, Franks from Lincoln and Franks from Kansas City. Ironically there were no Franks from Frankfurt, Connor figured they couldn't make it. Not that it mattered to him, less Franks meant less people to point and whisper.

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Patrice Mueller couldn't suppress a resigned sigh as she looked around the living room. It wasn't that it was dirty; it was that it looked fine. The whole house looked fine: a tastefully appointed exemplar of a white bread middle class dwelling. It was tidy, warm and cozy without a hint of ostentation.

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"If this does not solve your issue Patrick. I swear to God I am going to fire you as soon as you get back." "Yes, sir." Patrick muttered as he hung up the phone. Patrick was sitting in some therapist's waiting room. He looked around at the cream-colored walls as he debated reading Newsweek. He decided against it and his mind wandered.

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It began at dinner. The humor and banter of table conversation was punctuated by her meaningful glances and significant smiles. She wove her emotional cocoon around his mind slowly and carefully, channeling the conversation in the direction she sought, teasing and seducing him with voice as well as words.

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Kate stared at the clock. This had been a monumentally bad idea. Watching as the hand crept closer and closer, her dread grew with ever minute strike. That's why she should never, ever decide things while in the shower, she concluded. All manner of unreasonable ideas seem possible to her in there. When else would she have thought inviting her psychotic ex to her home would be a good decision? She shook her head.

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I should have never cut through the park but I was in a hurry to get to my girls house. Just thinking about the pussy I was going to get caused my cock to start to get hard. So wrapped up in my thoughts of the fucking I was going to get I never realized anyone else was around until they grabbed me and stuck a gag in my mouth.

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Anne was just approaching 30, she had struggled her way through a number of jobs before joining Fulcrum. She had trained as a nurse, worked in a hospital, then an old peoples home in her quest to find herself something which enabled her to work and help other people.

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