Your erotic stories

When I first moved to Chicago from the country I was pretty shy and nervous. It wasn't easy to make friends. I started dating a nice girl from work and had great fun for a few months. Then she went away to college and I found myself alone and miserable.

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I look at the clock. It's 8 p.m. It's a Thursday night and I'm still at the office. My report is due Friday and I've got at least 2 hours left on it. My whole team has gone home, and my interest in working for another two hours is waning. It's been a long hard week. My stomach starts to rumble. Good idea, I'll get some food. It may motivate me to get this crappy report finished.

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An unexpected business trip brought me back to the area where I grew up, the Philadelphia Main Line. I called a couple friends but none were around and so I thought it might be fun to visit one of the nicer haunts where my friends and I used to drink when home from college. It had been 20 years since we were trying to score in this place and except for a name change; it was pretty much the same.

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The small sign hanging in the window of the entryway was innocuous enough. "Oriental Massage" it read simply. If one wasn't paying attention as they drove by, they'd likely miss it, and mistake it for a plain, white house with an odd location. It's not every day that you see a house in the middle of an otherwise commercial/industrial area. But I was observant, and had seen the sign driving to and from work many times. It always piqued my curiosity.

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When I first saw him, he was sitting on a park bench (and, no, he was not eyeing little girls with bad intent). He was reading a book. Later, I would come to understand that this was his default state. In this instance, the book was William Gibson's Neuromancer. I was pleased. Literate and sexy; the intellect and the libido are inseparable after all, or should be.

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I had been seeing Steve for about three months. For 'seeing', read 'fucking'. Of course. He was okay, but certainly not Mr Right. He was becoming serious and I was becoming, if not exactly bored, certainly not ready for serious. I would have to dump him. Things had not gone as expected since my spectacular one nighter with the lovely Malcolm, my plans to re-enter single life as a sexual predator had not achieved fruition.

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The mother of Debbie and Maria was named Evon. She was, in my opinion, a good looking, plump woman in her late forties. Her tits were full, heavy orbs that frequently displayed her huge nipples through even the thickest of clothing. Her arse was firm and round. A pretty face with full lips complimented her green eyes and long brown hair. She extruded a sexual aura that was palpable with nothing more than the swing of her hips as she walked.

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"Mom?" I looked across at my daughter. Sally was holding the local paper. Rarely carrying anything exciting, so why the look on Sally's face? "Yes, dear? What is it?" "You know I have Jenny and Michelle coming round on Sunday for a pool party, and Kenny, Bill and Hector are coming, too?"

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Do you know what is worse than being married for five years and not having sex for the past six months, finding out that other men have been having sex with your wife in your bed? My name is Robert, I am 35 years old, five foot ten, thick black hair that starts at the top of my head and doesn't stop until it reaches my toes, green eyes, and a pretty naturally fit body, all compliments from my Italian heritage.

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Natalie settled into her overstuffed armchair, pulled close to the small space heater. The wind howled, rattling the windows as it rattled Natalie's nerves. Sipping hot tea, she stared at her journal opened before her. This was Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and she had been spending the evening focusing on the fact that she was alone, and had been for too long.

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