Your erotic stories

Several years ago I attended a small southern college. Our fraternity house was adorned with a statue of our mascot and a favorite campus prank was to paint it. It was general knowledge on campus that those caught would be shaved bald and though the mascot was often painted, rarely was the culprit apprehended. The alternative was calling the police and even though it amounted to only malicious mischief, a criminal record was a criminal record.

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I had wandered into the bookshop to kill time. My appointment with Carol at the employment agency was for 11.30am and I had caught the eight o'clock train in from the lake. For once it arrived on time. The employment agency was on the second floor of the building and I found the bookshop at street level. I had an hour to fill in before I had to go, up so I thought I'd look for a book I had been after for some time, The Mycenaeans by Lord William Taylour.

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Addie anchored her naked arms on the edge of the sink with her cute, round behind aimed straight up at me. She pushed her feet back just a bit, spread her legs and dug in. "I'm as ready as I can be, handsome. Do it." "Okay, but I warn you, I've never done this before," I responded nervously.

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Shelby took a deep breath and tried to work the knot out of the muscles in her neck, again. She hated this, every time life got stressful, it manifested itself in a sore neck, tight shoulder and back, gimping her up from days. No amount of ibuprofen helped. A massage would, but, according to her current financial situation, there was no way she could afford the luxury of a professional massage.

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Jamie peered over the lip of his cup, the sweet taste of the mocha frappe still clinging to his own lips, as he scanned the sprinkling of customers that were scattered about in the small cafe. A boring pair reading their papers and magazines. Two others ensnared in a heated embrace. Another writing busily. All bored him. But there was one man, hunkered over his own cup, brow furrowed in concentration, who caught Jamie's curiousity.

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I remember it as being one of 'those' weeks. Sunday was my twenty-second birthday and my mother took me to lunch at The Connaught. On such occasions, my mother likes to take charge. I think that the elderly couple at the next table thought that I was her Toy Boy. Oh well, if it brightened up their outing.

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Lisa closed her eyes and tried to remember every second of her dance with Craig last night. They had been at a small dinner party at the beach. She had gone with her mother and hadn't dressed to impress anyone. After all, everyone there knew everyone else. What she didn't know was that Craig's wife had passed away since she had seen him last, and this was supposed to be his first outing since the funeral.

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Sure, it all sounds great. I'm 29, I have my own business. A great house with way more bedrooms and bathrooms than I'll ever need. Plus, my work brings me to Hawaii every 6 months. You see I own a surf gear company. We make wet suits and boards, tees and shorts with our logo on them. Every six months I go to Waikiki to our head plant. I check that everything is being made properly and legally.

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Privately, I call her ‘Little Miss Sulky’. Tara, my wife’s daughter from her first marriage is a mass of seething teenage hormones and temper tantrums wrapped up in a nicely curved-in-all-the-right-places, curly-blonde-headed package. She is an fairly ordinary, nice looking kid…no that’s not right, emerging young woman…or rather, she would be without the constant sulkily pouting lips and sullen frown. She really is very pretty when she smiles, which is all too seldom.

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It was hellishly hot, the wind made a halfhearted effort to blow the dust from around Sally's feet but the effort was too much and the dust scarcely lifted. Five kilometers down the road Sally had abandoned her car, water pump failure, shit, on this Godforsaken stretch of road of all places. No-one ever drove alone here, the only reason she had come this way was because the distance was shorter.

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