Your erotic stories

I was having a really bad day. I was PMSing and being a total brat, so it's was no surprise when Ms. Slater, the girl's coach, told me to run a few extra laps after practice. I wasn't the only one, lucky for me. (Really lucky, as it turned out!) The other girl was Julia Rodriguez - a brown skinned girl I only knew from soccer. She didn't seem too bummed at having to do the extra laps, and we talked as we ran together.

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My name is Amanda. I'm now 20 year old. I'm five foot five, 124 pounds, with dark brown hair, brown eyes and 32a chest. I've been told my best feature is my ass, along with my full, sensual lips and dark eyes with long lashes. I've had submissive feelings for as long as I can remember. When I was 18 I met an online Master. At that time I lived in in Arizona with my dad. My Master lived very far away, and our relationship originally consisted of online play.

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I was just out of the shower, recuperating and basking in the glow after a night of incredible sex with my 23 year old girlfriend, Sasha. She had already left unhappily for work, complaining about her boss. What this beautiful, sexy young woman with a killer athletic body sees in a 41 year old divorcee is beyond me, but I'm not one to complain.

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It was a freezing cold day. The three girls hurried along to Ashleigh's house, they had been sent home from school early as the heating had broken down and the classrooms were like freezers. They had chosen Ashleigh's house, as they knew that it would be empty and that there would be plenty of alcohol there. By the time they reached the front door, they were all shivering like mad; their nipples were hard and pressed against their school shirts.

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Several months after I had parted from Jeff and a few weeks after my experience with Lionel (recounted in Chapter 15) three things happened virtually simultaneously. Firstly my wife, in a regular phone call with our daughter, told her that her lover was ill and being taken to hospital. I was not sorry for him, indeed I hoped that he would soon be dead, but I was sorry to think of the anxiety it would cause her. The second thing that happened gave me a shock.

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Trillions is where you go to get laid. It's not a private club, but you do have to look a certain way to get through the door. Well-groomed, is perhaps the most polite way to phrase it. I flatter myself that I do try and take care of my looks. While photographing models I've picked up a few hints and tips, and I'm not too modest to say that I've been mistaken for one of them on occasion. For your benefit, I'm five-seven tall in bare feet, trim figure, 34C bust, with shortish blonde hair. My eyes are clear blue, and I have very full, soft lips, or so I've been told.

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Saturday morning and here he was walking through the parking lot for work. He looked up and sighed. It was a beautiful day with just a few puffy clouds floating lazily across a bright blue sky. The temperature even at ten in the morning was warm enough that it promised to be a day for beaches, strolling down the lakeshore or sitting in a park watching the girls go by. Jason Maxwell sighed once more and pushed on the glass doors to the main entrance.

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There she is. She has amazing hair, the perfect skin, a great set of abs peaking out from under her tank top. She moves with catlike grace through the crowded bar, smiling at people even as she pushes them out of her way. "God, you just want to grab that ass and lick your way up her stomach," I mumble to Brook. Brook just smiles and takes the pool cue from my hands for her turn.

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Sandra shook her head and sighed as she listened to her daughter talking to her boyfriend in the next room. "You have got to be kidding me, right?" "C'mon Jen, it'll be fun. Ron and Angela and Wendy and Greg will be there." "A stupid protest? Please." "We could end up on T.V."

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Honours year, and the going was tough. Going to uni at hours I didn't know existed, to check up on experiments. Going to uni on weekends, for God's sake. Writing methods, hypotheses, tabling results, hoping against hope that things would go OK - there's no margin for error as an honours student. At the end of the week, there was little I could do other than collapse into my bed and sleep.

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