Your erotic stories

Dave was sweating. The sun was warm but not uncomfortably so - it felt considerably milder than the sun back in Orange - but dragging the bag along the street probably hadn't been the best idea. It was well-suited to the task but the route he had decided to take to the hostel he was booked into was rather longer in person than it had seemed on paper. As he trundled down 33rd Avenue, he espied some shady greenery which turned out to be a park.

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"Hi Brian, what are you wearing right how?" The voice on the telephone was low and rough as if she wasn't quite awake. "Not much." He answered her, but couldn't figure out who she was. The voice sounded faintly familiar, but he was not sure he knew who it belonged to. Brian wasn't doing much. In fact, he was standing in the bedroom, wearing only a towel around his neck, trying to decide if he wanted to go to bed early, or pull on some sweats, fix a late supper, and then open his briefcase and read for a couple of hours.

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I laughed out loud at cupid. He slapped his hand over my mouth to silence me; he wasn't happy, I could tell by the way he growled at me to shut up before straightening his listing laurel wreath and rearranging his bow and arrows. His face was silvered, heavy with stage makeup, his body sheathed in an over-tight leotard, and a toga that left little to the imagination.

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Doctor Charlotte Preston sat in her grey wing back chair and lightly tapped her pen across her folio papers. She was listening to her patient Gabriel relate a new story, one about his positive progress. Veterans Day had just passed and every previous year Gabriel had been asked to make an appearance at the local remembrance ceremony but he had always declined. But this year, despite his paralyzing fear, he had gotten out his Dress uniform and he had gone to the ceremony.

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My wife, Natasha, is Russian, and originally came here as a work exchange student. We fell in love her first summer here. She was a virgin, and I was her first. We kept in touch when she returned to her university, and she came back the next summer. We lived together that summer, and got married at the end of it! Our sex life was awesome from the start. But we are both very sensual people, and a dispute arose.

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My heart started to pick up speed as the bus got closer and closer to Brawly. The road was framed with beautiful fields of green and yellow. Tractors and trailers were moving around carrying farm supplies and farm workers to their designated destinations. Many fields were shimmering under the bright afternoon sun, indicating the presence of water as the irrigation canals emptied into them. Rows of white birds were spread all over those fields, searching for food and maybe even socializing at the local watering holes.

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Johnny wasn't really a boy, we were just friends. So when my parents issued the ultimatum "No boys!" before leaving for the long weekend, I assured myself they didn't mean Johnny. Around 9 the night they left, Johnny knocked on the door. I was surprised, when I opened it, to find two guys standing in front of me.

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I've waited so long to be with you again, and when your call came, the message on my answering machine with flight numbers and arrival time, I have to admit, I was at first, more confused than excited. I fret, and pace, and forget to eat. I remember the circumstances of our goodbye: Lamenting the loss of someone with such similar physical needs and desires because our lifestyles wouldn't and couldn't mesh, at least not at that time.

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It was the stupidest thing I've done in my entire life; let's be honest, I knew that at the time but I still did it, silly cow! It was just before Christmas, and I'd gone with a few of my fellow teachers to the pub to celebrate the end of term – my first in my new profession. I'm Cathy Hull by the way, 23, pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way with a pale face, regular features, shoulder length brown hair (mousey, if I'm, being honest), and quite petite, five-foot-four with a slim figure. I'm from just outside London, and the school I teach at is about fifty miles north of my home town.

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ONE "AAAAaaaahhhh!!! Jesus!!!!" Candace moaned softly before biting her lower lip. She was bent over her large executive desk as Marcus pounded his long, thick shaft deep into her wet pussy. His hands were under her skirt, wrapped around her slim waist, her tiny panties stretched tightly between her ankles. Candace felt her breasts swinging beneath her and her stiff nipples were rubbing across the top of the desk.

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