Your erotic stories

I walked into the hotel café , as usually late, as usually slightly flustered from all the things that I managed to not do to get here in time, but also with a sense of more serious trepidation mixed with excitement gnawing at my throat. Not every day after all one meets a person with whom one shared the wildest of sexual fantasies.

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'Shit, I'm late again,' I thought as I looked down at my watch. 9:56. I've got four minutes to park the car, run into the mall and punch in before the boss has another reason to yell at me. And like that, I ran as fast as my young legs could take me. With 7 seconds to spare. 'It's gonna be a good day,' I thought as I adjusted myself. As good of a day as one could have at the mall, that is. It was the summer before my sophomore year in college.

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Stacy closed the front door, and instinctively headed to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of wine to ease the pain of yet another unsuccessful blind date. This had become a far too familiar routine. Friends paraded guy after guy in front of her, all with the promise of "he'd be PERFECT for you". "Perfect seems to be subjective", Stacy mused to herself.

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Eva's best friend Kendra was also one of her coworkers. Her supervisor, to be exact. And when her best friend/supervisor opened up about obsessing over a guy that was simply impossible to have, Eva felt it her duty to try and get Kendra laid. I'm Justin, Eva's boyfriend, and I told Eva I knew just the guy to get Kendra's mind off her obsession.

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I didn't get home until after 6AM. I'd been working with a buddy of mine all night as a temp at his job at a warehouse to pick up some extra cash, but I'd expected to be home by 2AM at the latest. And I'd started that job after getting off my regular job, meaning I'd been up and working for almost 24 hours straight.

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Penny sorted through the mail. The usual lot: bills, catalogs, applications for credit cards. She was about to toss it all aside when a smallish envelope with very flowery handwriting caught her attention. She opened it and read: 'You are cordially invited to a Lady of the Night lingerie party at the home of Kimberly Morgan, this Saturday, the twenty-first at one PM.'

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Rob and Dolly Hamlin were sitting in Oldham’s Bar in North St. Louis having a drink with their son Scott. Oldham’s was a gathering place for most of the bikers in the area. Scott had a motorcycle customizing shop right next door and the location couldn’t have been better. It was like having the bar do your advertising and marketing for you, Scott said. The bar was packed this evening and the customers were the usual lot.

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It was during my first summer holiday since I'd gone to university when it happened. I had gone into town one Saturday afternoon to get some CDs, when I saw walking down the street towards me my French teacher from school. Generally I didn't really like meeting my old teachers, it was always a bit odd being treated normally by people who had been authority figures for me only a short time ago, and even if Mrs Woodcock (she was French, but had married an English guy)

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I know you and you know me, but you do not know it is me writing you now. You are married with kids and I am married with kids. You love them and they love you, just as I love mine and they love me. There is good sex in both marriages, but I know that you are overwhelmed by your feelings of sexual desire, just as I am.

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I was around thirty-eight at the time. I'd been off work for a few weeks after I'd broken my arm on the boats...at least that's what I'd told the doctor. Once I got the sling off, he told me to do some light exercise to help fix the break, and he suggested I go to the Y in town and do a couple of lengths of the pool a day. I'm a big guy anyway, and I've never had much need of exercise, but it certainly sounded like a change from looking for jobs and watching the tube all day.

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