Your erotic stories

I'm running late, and am scared you're going to be pissed. It's my 31st birthday, and you've promised me a special treat but said I had to be at your apartment by 6:00. When you called this afternoon you wouldn't give any details, but seemed pretty pleased with yourself. Fucking F train, always running late when I need to get to your place. Well, OK, I wanted to watch the Simpson's, and left late. But, still, the fucking F train. My watch tells me that I'm ½ hour late. Fuck.

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I met Rick and his girlfriend Wendy when I dated Nancy. Nancy and Wendy were roommates and we two couples spent a lot of social time together. Unknown to all of us Nancy was experimenting with hard drugs and she eventually spiraled out of control and out of our lives. Both Rick and I worked night jobs and on days when I had no classes we would often hang out together.

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He stood by the corner, hugging a bag of films and lenses as he watched me posing shot after shot. I couldn't look away. He had the most arresting eyes. [Those swirling depths of brown]. He'd always stand by the side, watching the photo session silently with the most penetrating gaze. "Christian! Can you please concentrate!" Ruben Anders, my photographer, chided.

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Note: Both characters in this story are eighteen or older. * My sister, Jess, is so hot. Blonde and tan with large, perfect breasts, and the most beautiful ass. I've peeped at her so many times, I practically know every inch of her body. And I do mean EVERY inch. I still remember the first time I saw her pussy; I wanted a taste so badly. I remember the first time I thought about her while jerking off; it felt weird at first, but that just excited me even more.

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"I'm not ready to go back yet, but it's not like there's anything I can do about it, so I might as well just go with it," I said, half-staring down at my own feet. It was the day before I would begin the long four of years of the hell that was high school, and although I was intrigued by the idea of new people, a new building, and hopefully better food, my excitement and enthusiasm ended there. I had despised being a freshman in junior high, and I was just about to endure another year of the lowly freshman life, this time in a slightly bigger building.

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Late, late, late -- I am going to be late. I muttered this mantra to myself as I ran to my car. It was 7:32 and I was supposed to check in by 8:15 at the seminar. I was headed to a teacher's seminar at a hotel about forty-five minutes from my house. The day was already hot and humid. I needed to pick up a few extra classes so I would have a better chance at getting a substitute teaching job at one of the schools close by.

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"This little piggy went to market." "What are you doing?" Cosmo did not reply. Instead, he proceeded on to her second toe, taking it between his thumb and index finger, wiggling it back and forth. "This little piggy stayed home." "You are so weird!" "This little piggy had roast beef." He changed his inflexion to a low, pouting tone and continued, "and this little piggy, he had none."

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Back in college, I met this one girl and we started to get to know each other fairly well in classes and in passing. She had a live-in boyfriend named Bruce, a guy in the drama club. After we'd known each other a couple months, she finally asked to stop by their place on Friday night and we'd have some beers.

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Tim yawned hugely as he padded downstairs, an empty glass in his hand. He almost tripped over his feet at the bottom, and steadied himself with a muted curse. The morning was cool, the house enveloped in a pre-dawn glow. He walked into the kitchen, resting the glass in the sink. Butterball, the fat ginger queen of his home, wrapped herself around his legs. He smiled, and felt the cat's purr against his leg. He bent to retrieve the cat food from under the sink.

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"Tom, I'm happy you're home from college for the summer, but we just can't give you money anymore like we used to. We need every dollar we have, and if you have the chance to earn some on your own, even if it's just a day job, you have to take it." "Mom, this isn't a job. This is...labor." "It's $100, and all you have to do is spend a few hours boxing up some stuff and taking out trash.

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