Your erotic stories

The Cop I got invited to a Halloween costume party this year. I don't normally do this type of thing, but I was given enough advance warning that I was able to get online and find a cheap outfit. I chose a referee's outfit that came with a striped top and a matching striped mini skirt that barely covered my ass.

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Trixie lurched through the door, heels clack-clacking on the laminate flooring as she stumbled. Failing to realise the racket she had just created, she turned and carefully shut the door, just in case her boyfriend, Gary, had gone to bed already. He had let her borrow his keys just case she came home really late, as he had an early start the next morning – a weekend away with the boys.

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"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?" "Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ." "No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope." "Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

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As Ashley and Penny were being driven to Ashley's apartment from Lady Rose's in the stretch limousine she had provided for them after the special dinner she had given for the ten Department Heads of her two department stores in city centre Sydney, they talked about all that had happened that evening:

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It was the summer of my eighteenth year. As everybody knows, summer in New York City is hot and sticky and miserable, and this summer was especially hot. My name is Andrea and I live with my family in a small apartment in a neighborhood called Morningside Heights. It's not too far from the Columbia University campus, but it might as well be a thousand miles. The people on my street drive cabs, work in food services or low-end retail. Or they're just plain dirtbags.

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I got home late one night from my usual cardio session at the gym. Working out had got me sweaty and horny, so I raced home, glancing to be sure the DVD was still on the passenger seat, something I had grabbed from the gay section at the porn shop I worked at, before leaving for the day.

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His fingers stroked her clit maddeningly. "You like the idea of that, don't you?" he whispered into her ear. "You like the idea of getting fucked by my friends, of being our whore." She moaned, her fingers gripping his arm tightly. Kitsune's panties were looped around one ankle. She'd just come home from St. Mary's Catholic School, where she was a senior, and she was still in her school uniform.

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I was living this apartment building. It was a pretty nice complex. A lot of lawyers were living in it for some reason. I guess you could say that it was a luxury apartment complex. My mom was also a lawyer (no surprise). She was always out of the house and was basically with me in the evening for supper. She was divorced for 3 years and had no time to see anyone else.

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Not even fourteen hours into the weekend and Drew knew it was a mistake to come to Vegas. He didn't even gamble, really, for Christ's sakes, and it wasn't like he had the extra padding in his checking account these days. The whole place felt like he could look but not touch. Swarovski, Tiffany, Cartier and the rest of the stores that only foreigners seemed to shop in, the High Roller tables cordoned off with velvet ropes, the cocktail waitresses with too high hemlines and too low necklines.

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I was thirty when it happened. I fell in love. She was perfect. She was everything I could have ever wanted in a mate; beautiful, smart, funny. She wasn't bitter though she did have quite a temper. She was determined and goal oriented. She had a cute face and a banging body, though she didn't realize she had either. That was probably because she was young. She was very young, and she was my student. I guess I need to start at the beginning. My name is Kenneth Ellerson. I teach higher math, and coach JV and Varsity Girls basketball at a coastal Georgia high school.

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