Your erotic stories

Nicole was hottest chick in any room lucky enough to have her fine ass there, and she knew it. She had the ability to make any woman jealous when she entered a public setting, causing every male in the place to stare uncontrollably. John was Nicole's husband and didn't have any reservations showing off his beautiful wife to his friends, coworkers, and anyone else who couldn't help but gawk at her. The lucky ones of the audience would catch a glimpse of one of the many little "accidental shows" the couple would put on.

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Kay sat nervously in the boardroom as the panel of five interviewers filed in. Comprising of three ladies and two men, the group settled down around her on the oval table. Interviews, especially job interviews, were not a favourite of Kay's but she had no real reason to be nervous about this interview. She had the job in the bag. She looked her interviewers over, decoding them by what they wore and how they looked. Were they married? All but one, the skinny middle aged lady that wore glasses and a straight pleated skirt, had a wedding ring around her finger.

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Brad sat on the floor in his darkened room. Across the narrow side yard that separated their houses, the sheer curtains in Ann's room were not quite closed, and the light in her room made them almost transparent. Brad waited, patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded, as Ann stepped out of her bathroom, toweling her short brown hair dry. Naked, she walked across the room and stopped in front of her dresser. Brad reached down and began gently stroking his penis.

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Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.

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It was early afternoon, and it had been a quiet day. I had gotten a few things from the shops and done some things in the garden. Staff party tonight. Christ, I can't be arsed. All that brown nosing. I'll have to stand with the boss, and he won't be listening to a word I say. He'll just be leering at my wife, Jane. She copes well with it, but I know she hates it. We're both in our late thirties now. There was a time in our 20s it would have been funny. We would have laughed about it. But now? He's a lecherous old man in his mid-fifties and it's just sad and very annoying.

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The beginning of this story occurred at least a dozen years ago when I worked for a former employer and would travel to various cities on business. These business trips occurred quite often and would vary from overnight stays to a week in duration. One of these cities was St. Louis and the stays were usually three to five days long. Clients and vendors would usually wine and dine me most nights but eventually I needed some time to myself, so I started begging off at least one night during each visit.

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"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you." The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks.

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line.

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I arrived at my flat at 7-00a.m. on Monday morning, thankful I had finished my final night shift of ten. Four days before I returned to work, I was determined, not a single hour would be wasted. I picked up my mail behind my front door and shuffled through them. A letter from my Solicitor got my immediate attention. After ripping open the envelope, I punched the air the letter contained my decree absolute.

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I've always fantasized about viewing a movie in an adult theater just to see if the rumors are true. I fantasize about being approached by multiple men, horny with lust for anonymous sex with me. Men wanting to ravage me, cum in and on me, raw sex, nothing but. I know it sounds sick, nasty and perverted, I don't really give a damn . It's my fantasy. It isn't like I'd ever really do it but the thought of it makes me wet.

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