Your erotic stories

She may not be a virgin, but at this particular moment, Cyrene definitely felt it. What her friend had been thinking, bring her to a place like this she will never know. All around her were people doing, in some form or another, the most sinful acts of fornication she had ever witnessed. It was like a sexual show-and-tell, with everyone watching and joining in on everyone else's show.

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Alana's hands skimmed over her smooth skin, following the gentle curves and contours of her body. She shivered as she touched her inner thighs, moving them apart under the covers, then sliding one hand up to her shaven pussy. As she began stroking her clit, feeling the sensation of pleasure, she thought, 'Damn, I wasn't going to do this'.

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It started out as just another Saturday night – me, Terry, Jezza and a few other lads going out into Luton for a few beers and a bit of fun. Then Terry mentioned some gay celebrity he'd seen mincing about on TV before he came out, and we were into the usual shared rant about how queers were taking over, and soon it'd be compulsory to take it up the arse.

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Pleasantly surprised when answering the door, but instead of inviting her in, Shawn joined the euphoric teenager on the front deck. "You look happy," he smiled, eying the tight microskirt, enjoying the sight of luscious tan legs. "Ah, that's right! Today was the big day, wasn't it? Live up to expectations?"

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Like most young girls, my fancy has always been that of older men. I am unsure whether its the experience or just the maturity that makes them more appealing than most guys my age, but I have found that most older men tend to flirt more with the younger girls as well. Out of all I have met though, there has only been one to make me weak with just a simple wink.

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"Do you want to stop at Subway for lunch?" "Yeah, I'm really hungry." Stacy and I were driving back toward the office after a meeting on the other side of town. We were in different divisions but had worked together on a few projects. Stacy was a 24-year-old strawberry blond who had a cute face behind her somewhat nerdy glasses. She usually wore conservative business attire that made it hard to tell much about her figure;

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PART I I let Michael move into my house because I needed to offset some bills, thus share the rent. He was a long-term friend, someone who I thought I could live with. He had a good job, and nice stuff... a bonus. Plus, there was something about him... something I couldn't put my finger on, but he had an effect on me that I could not explain.

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Goldie couldn't believe it. There she was, scuffing down a back road on South Goddamn Georgia with her disabled car half a mile back. It was getting dark, it was colder than the South had any right to be, her cell phone was broken, and there wasn't a soul in sight. Damn him anyway, him and all the shit he'd put her through over the past five years.

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It's an unusual day in many ways. For a start I've got the day off work and have the entire day to myself. It is very unusual for me to take time off work, but I have just been on a long business trip and did not arrive home until the early hours of the morning. I sent a text to my boss when I got home informing him that I would not be in work today.

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I was going on a fishing trip into Old Mexico - a trip I'd dreamt of and planned for years, because at first I couldn't afford it and then because I could never find the time. The last thing I needed was a handful of trouble in the form of my neighbor, Cassie's, daughter. When Jessie was a lot younger, I was sort of her adopted Dad, because her real one just left in the middle of the night - a school teacher that ran away with one of his students.

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