Your erotic stories

The trip from Sydney to LA is a long one. Even riding up front with the better seats, after six or seven hours--about half way--I started thinking about a ordering a wheelchair to take me through the terminal after we arrived. When you added the time spent standing in line and riding the connection to my home, I usually got to my front door beat, interested in nothing more than a shower and a bed.

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Brad sat on the floor in his darkened room. Across the narrow side yard that separated their houses, the sheer curtains in Ann's room were not quite closed, and the light in her room made them almost transparent. Brad waited, patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded, as Ann stepped out of her bathroom, toweling her short brown hair dry. Naked, she walked across the room and stopped in front of her dresser. Brad reached down and began gently stroking his penis.

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Model Jane demands a double entrance. My name is Jane Ashford a working model, at the time my story starts I was in Australia modelling beach wear. We were a group of ten, consisting of a cameraman named Mike and his assistant, Henry who was a bit of a creep, but in a nice sort of way. We had some stand-in cameramen usually employed locally at each place we went to.

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A young women returns to her hometown and uses her erotic charms to wreak revenge on her ex boyfriend and best friend the week of their impending wedding. I emerged from the shower with the moisture still trickling over my body, naked except for the fluffy white towel wrapped around my bust line. I had been planning this weekend for a long time; I wanted everything to be right. I opened my suitcase and surveyed the strategically sexy underwear I had chosen to bring with me to enhance my plan.

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One thing you should know, about me and the man I describe here, is that we've never really been 'together'. What we have had is more than ten years of friendship, the best and worst of shared experiences and, most importantly, the most insatiable, uncontrollable desire for each other that either of us had ever experienced. On this particular day, we were heading out to a concert, but I also happened to be introducing him to one of my best friends for the first time. I arrived at his place just as he was getting home from a run.

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I met Jen when I was 24. I was a bartender at a local bar and she was a regular customer. She was a stunning woman. 23 years old, long red hair, emerald green eyes, and a body to die for. Her breasts were a nice firm 38c, a nice flat stomach with a belly ring, long legs that lead to one of the most incredible heart shaped asses that I had ever seen. She was always showing off her body, in the shortest dresses and low cut blouses.

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We'd hardly had any traffic on the road that led out of town but the full moon had been our constant companion as it threw a ribbon of eerie light onto the narrow twisty path that led us into the countryside. The stillness was in sharp contrast to the lively scenes we'd passed as we'd driven through the suburbs where pumpkin lanterns decorated houses and kids wearing ghoulish costumes trawled the neighborhoods, trick or treating.

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The morning dawned clear and cold. I rolled over, feeling the flannel sheets rub against my naked form, and looked for you. As usual, you had left for your morning run, leaving me alone in the bed, the sun streaming through my window, lighting on the hunter green bedspread. I rolled over a little, and could still smell you on the pillow. I breathed in the warmth of your scent on the sheets, and smiled softly. It was then that I saw the note you'd pinned to the pillow.

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Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.

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I typed it in an IM window. 'Come fuck me' it said. Her reply was simple. 'Yes, Master.' How many times had I typed that to her in role-playing chat when I was on the opposite coast of the country? I've even typed that when I was close enough for us to make it happen. I would be there with my laptop in the king-sized bed at my hotel in D.C., messaging her at her home in New York. Close, but far. 'Come fuck me,' I typed. 'Yes, Master,' she replied. Odd how the same words looked different this time -- that was last night.

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