Your erotic stories

Billy was shit out of luck. His problem was that he was just an average Joe - but he was really, REALLY average! He was twenty-five years old, working as a delivery man, and not a bad person. But he just couldn't get laid. It wasn't that he was ugly or fat or anything else like that. He had ordinary looks with an ordinary body (bordering on the chubby side, though).

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"Perfect," she said out loud to no one. As if the night couldn't get any worse, now her costume was ruined. The piece of shit car had just barely held onto life long enough to chug and puff into the gas station before it died with one last horrible cough. She had put the hood up and tinkered around in there the best she could – Karen didn't know anything about cars except how to fill them with gas.

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My girlfriend, Candy and I have been together for for almost ten years. I'm not sure why we never got married but I guess we both figure our relationship works well without having the ceremony. My name is John, I'm 33 years old, Candy is 32. Candy is very petite at only 5 feet tall, weighing just over 100 pounds. She has a fantastic body with very firm B cup breasts.

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Several years ago I was in Atlanta for a family reunion. After my shower, as I dried off and was naked in the motel bathroom, there was a tap on my door. It was the maid. I cracked the door open. She excused herself and said she would come later, but I told her that she could come in right away. I quickly hopped back into the bathroom and closed the door while she entered the room.

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It all began when Steve, my husband of fifteen years came home and told me that he had been made redundant from his job with a big software company in Phoenix. He had worked for the company for twenty years in total since he left school, but they had just lost a big contract and addressed the cash crisis by restructuring the management team.

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When I was 19-20, I worked as a production assistant for a TV show which I won't name. It was not a huge deal. It was steadily successful in a small way, and is still on today. It was a fun job. Most PA jobs are not. You run shitty errands and never get appreciated. Usually the boss treats you like shit. This job was different. People were friendly.

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N.Y.C. 1971. .......... Chapter One: Stranded in the Big Apple. Everything had gone so well up to the point when I took out my wallet to get my bus ticket. It was a small grey stub that was going to get me on the bus for my return home to Plattsburgh, New York, and when I didn't find it right away, I didn't panic but merely stepped out of the line to allow the more organized travelers to get on the bus.

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You first met him in your psych 201 class even though he was a senior and you were only a sophomore. He sat next to you the very first day and immediately started flirting. You liked it and you liked him. He was just your type. Strong, tall, athletic. A surfer build and tan skin. Cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. Smitten, you couldn't get enough. For him it seemed like a game, every day he'd flirt and tease you, and every day he'd leave without your phone number or without asking you out.

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The Gash was the worst beat in town, and being the cop working it meant that you had three options: get promoted and get reassigned, leave the force, or wait to die. Cops had a shorter lifespan in The Gash than a white-girl's virginity did in a rap concert. I had worked this beat once, before I took done a cop-killing drug-dealing Puerto Rican slut named La Zorra and made vice. There was no need for me to come back to this shitty-ass place, but I wanted to. The Gash was my connection to someone I cared about. Someone who needed my help.

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Daisy took her time dressing for the party. She wanted to look sexy and provocative. Her braless tits and hard nipples poked shamelessly through the tight red cotton top cut above her pierced belly button. A tiny black skirt barely covered her ass cheeks. The eye shadow was heavy and the lipstick bright red.

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