Your erotic stories

Today was the day Trish and I were going to get our loan check to start our business; both of us had been looking forward to it all weekend. We couldn't wait to get to the bank and give our own special thank you to the loan officer that approved us the previous Friday after we'd...well, shown him our own version of `collateral.'

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So there I was again, hanging out in my favourite pub on a busy Saturday night, talking to my buddy Zack, half-focused on him, half-focused on finding a good-looking guy to take home and fuck into oblivion. Yeah, I knew Zack wanted me, and the truth is that I wanted him, too, but neither one of us had ever acted on it. My rationale was: why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because a wet spot formed on my thong whenever I was around him?

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Rob: My girlfriend and I had the most amazing anniversary last week and we had just had to put it down in writing to make sure we remembered all the details. It has changed everything and we are not sure what the future holds for us. We know we will be together but, well on with the story. Cindy and I had been together one year last week and I invited her to dinner at the same cozy little restaurant where we had our first date.

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‘Dave won’t be home until four-thirty,’ she thought as she rinsed the soapy lather from her body. She dried and spent some time on her hair, making it look the way I liked, tied up off the shoulder. She applied her make-up and dabbed some Obsession perfume on her pulse points. ‘That should do it. Now, what shall I wear,’ she mused. She opened her wardrobe door and chose a light summer frock that was almost transparent when lit from behind. ‘Yes, perfect’.

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I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. I wrapped the towel around me and dripped to the front door. Guys are much more able to that than girls are. We can drip, and show up at the door in only a towel from the waist down, and no one thinks it's a come-on. If a girl does it, she's just asking for it.

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Amy looked at the card in her hand. A dentist's appointment, that wasn't going to be good. It didn't seem to matter how well she brushed her teeth, she always seemed to manage to need to have some sort of work done that required a filling. And that meant a needle. She hated needles of any sort and when they were putting them in her mouth, all she wanted to do was scream, but couldn't.

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François Renard was a stagehand and handyman at the theater of the Ballet De Paris. He was a huge man, almost seven feet tall with wide shoulders and hands large and strong enough to crush a coconut, but he was very gentle giant. Most of those who saw him thought he was slow witted because he seldom spoke. Also he had a foolish smile which came out any time Monsieur Tibault the theater manager scolded him, or if one of the dancers from the corps de ballet made fun of him.

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The band's manager turned to Erin and smiled. "The guys like you." Erin's brown eyes lit up. "Do you think so?" This would be her fantasy come true. "I know so," the tall, graying man stated and handed the young girl a cloth pass marked All Access in bold white lettering. "After the show," he grinned, "knock on the bus." If she had won the lottery, Erin wouldn't have been happier than she was at that moment.

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John and I had only been dating for a couple months so I was surprised when he asked if I wanted to go with him to visit his brother in Boston. We were at that weird point in a relationship when things are just on the verge of going deeper. There had not been any talk about whether we were exclusive or not, but I wasn’t dating anyone else and did not have any desire to do so. Just a week earlier a coworker asked me out and I turned him down because of John so I thought I was ready for something more, even if I did find the thought of getting serious scary.

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Jillian was thrilled, thrilled, THRILLED that she'd pulled her grades up and was now getting B+'s, A's and even an A+ on her most recent English essay. She'd worked hard, given up dating and partying – which for an eighteen-year old girl was torture – to achieve these great marks.

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