Your erotic stories

Walking from the elevator I reread the address that I was given last week. I found myself on a row of professional looking offices, and while I could not imagine where I had thought that this practitioner might work, the deep pile carpet of the corridor had a soothing effect on my nerves and spirits. It was a long corridor and at last I came to an oak door with no identification other than a copper plate bearing the legend "Maxwell Diagnostic Center."

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She sat on the front porch swing, one long leg curled under her, the other pressed against the worn wooden boards of the porch, idly swinging herself back and forth as the sun's rays spread across the old house, bathing her and it in a fiery glow. The peach in her hand seemed to shimmer, as did the juice that ran down her chin when she took a hearty bite. She swiped at it with a finger and laughed, happy because he was on his way home.

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I had literally creamed myself almost nightly for Phil's body, but Phil was about as straight as they come—and getting all the female tail he could handle if all the talk around campus was true. We were both attending the university on athletic scholarships—Phil on a football and baseball scholarship and me on a wrestling scholarship, wrestling being a good way for me to get down and dirty with other hot, sweating, muscular dudes.

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"You are kidding?" I shouted at the van driver as he walked to his vehicle; "Seriously...you are just leaving them there?" He continued ignoring me even though I had my hands on my hips and I was tapping my foot on the pavement, to show him that I was really angry.

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I don't know what it was with Emma, but just about everything was a first for her. She'd never smoked pot until the night we met. She'd never sixty-nined until about three hours later, when I spent an enjoyably frantic ten minutes with her lovely breasts mashed against my stomach, her skilled mouth doing a real number on me as I tried to return the favour.

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From the outside it looked like a nice upper middle class home, but in reality it was a studio for shooting porn. We, meaning my sister and I, were sitting on a huge white couch. My sister was wearing only a pair of red boy cut panties and a matching bra. She was wearing a bit more makeup than I was used to seeing her wear. With her shoulder length blond hair she still had that girl next door look, but the look was starting to edge toward slutty girl next door. I was wearing jeans over a pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt.

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When they started building the apartment building next door it was more an annoyance than anything else. It would take almost a year for them to complete the building after razing the smaller brownstones that now occupied the space. We overlooked four of the smaller buildings and their backyards. Not the most amazing view, but it was wide open to the skies. Our apartment was on the 11th floor.

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Let's get this out of the way right off. I'm a cheating, asshat, bastard. There is no other way to put it so don't bother with the lame comments telling me what I already know after you read this. I have no redeeming qualities after what I did. I used to be married; you'll soon see why I'm not anymore. In my defense, and maybe the men that read this will agree, I couldn't help myself... what was placed before me was too tempting, beyond my capacity to resist.

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The moon, the mating heat, the high from the hunt – they all contributed to her small moment of insanity. A small moment of insanity that birthed a huge freaking problem. Enaera gingerly ran her fingertips over both of her mating marks. Growing up in the pack with Andrew and his brothers had limited her access to many of the male weres, let alone any other species.

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Bree removed her undies, twirled them on a finger and discarded them on the table. It was our first game of strip gin rummy. I watched Bree do a little spin as I scooped up my winnings; a sexy, little, black lace thong. I was surprised, but delighted, to see that she had decided to try something new. Gone was Bree's wispy blonde, but always neatly manicured, triangle of hair. In its place...nothing. Nothing, but smooth, clean, hairless skin.

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