Your erotic stories

I was standing over my father's grave at Sunnycrest Cemetery as the cleric spouted empty words and prayers, and as my mother wept crocodile tears into her lace hankie. "Be strong, Lucinda," said my Great Aunt Martha, patting my mother's shoulder. Aunt Martha was my father's mother's sister.

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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong === I arrived at my office the next day to find an envelope on my desk with my name written on it in neat, if rather florid, handwriting. It read "Robert" which was slightly odd because everyone at work calls me Rob.

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I couldn't unfasten her safety belt. Have you ever heard those lyrics? They're part of a song that Chuck Berry put out in the sixties. Basically, the song gives the story of a young lad who took his girlfriend for a drive. He tells of how, when they parked and wanted to go for a walk so he could pitch a little wooing, they couldn't undo her seat belt. She was stuck in the car and he had to home, wooing being deferred to another day.

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To say that a month ago I was, on the face of it, prim and proper would be an understatement. Tim and I (Jane), met in our first year at high school and were inseparable from that time on and I guess it was always assumed by ourselves and our families that we would get married. Tim was everything I could have ever wanted - the proverbial tall, dark and handsome athletic sort, not to mention incredibly wealthy, once he had established himself in the family law firm which his grandfather had founded.

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She got into the hotel elevator on the 7th floor, wearing nothing a swimsuit with a towel around her waist, at the same time I got out, and I knew I had to follow her. There was no doubt it was the same woman I'd noticed that morning as I'd left for the conference, leaving room 713 just after I'd walked out of 717. She'd had on a perfectly smooth pencil skirt over black hose or stockings, a matching jacket, three-inch heels, and a white blouse--the kind of business attire that drives me to distraction every single time.

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The other Saturday, as I was getting dressed for my morning workout, standing by the dresser in nothing but cotton panties and sneakers, the doorbell rang causing me to I wonder who the hell it could be. My friends knew that I worked out every morning so they never even called, much less popped in for a visit. I figured it must be the Jehovah's Witnesses or somebody selling something. I decided I'd blow them off without even opening the door.

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I was working the night shift at the airport, supposedly saving the world from terrorists by making old people remove their shoes at the metal detector. The job was boring and the pay mediocre, but sometimes I could have a little fun depending on who I had to pat down. It was along time since my last relationship had broken up, I would take any action I could get even if it was just mildly groping cute guys who came through the line. Like the one that was just approaching.

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She was kneeling astride my chest, completely naked. One hand was behind her, holding my cock. My wrists and ankles were tied to the four corners of the bed. I was helpless, turned on and feeling thoroughly humiliated... but still incredibly turned on. The hardness of my cock was a very concise testament to that fact. It's not like she was even pumping it, or alternately squeezing and relaxing her hand. She was just holding it. Using it as a barometer -- a guide to my state of sexual arousal.

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I was getting ready to take a shower when I heard a knock at the front door. I was naked except for my panties. I glanced at my watch. 9:15. It was a Tuesday night and I wasn't expecting anyone. "Shit," I muttered to myself as I threw on a pair of shorts and a button-up shirt. I went downstairs to the front door and looked out the peephole.

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Halloween was fast approaching and Amy could hardly wait. She and her husband Mark were hosting this year's company Halloween party. The last few parties had been great and she knew this one would be lots of fun. She worked with a great group of people, and adding in their spouses or partners there would be 24 people attending. The party was this coming Saturday night and Amy and her husband were almost done with the preparations.

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