Your erotic stories

Luck is a funny thing. It has a habit of rolling around when you least expect it and when it shows up it sure can be a beautiful thing. Of course what may be good luck for you may have your best friend way up shit creek without a paddle. This story of luck and misfortune started years ago when I met Tim in college. We met at a frat party and became fast friends.

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The whistle didn't surprise her. At 46, Nancy Pace was still attractive. In fact, partly due to her recent interest in Roger Mitchelson, the up-and-coming real estate broker she'd begun dating, she was feeling more sensual than she had since her marriage to Bill ended, more than 5 years ago. The fact that she'd finally gotten breast implants last year, along with a regimen of collagen and Botox treatments, had her feeling downright sexy, most of the time!

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Erica was a smart lady in her late thirties. Trim figure, short black hair, always dressed immaculately. Attractive in a cold way. Untouchable - none of the rest of us would ever be allowed near her. And formidable. Not formidable in an unpleasant way, but someone who had to run things. Chair things. Be in charge of things, and enjoyed the status that went with it. Sometimes the things she ran were run to feed her ego, rather than for the benefit of the organisation or members.

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Miranda walked from the restroom hallway back into the noisy, smoke filled dance club. As she turned the corner she glanced to her left and came to a sudden stop, eyes wide. The table in the corner, where all the rich girls from the college had been sitting was now nearly empty.

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It was one of those days where you just wanted to go out and get yourself laid. My name is Gus Roberts, 32 years old, and it's been in a while since I've had a steady relationship. I'm kinda on the stocky side, a little under 6 feet tall, and short brown hair. I was wearing a classy black shirt and matching slacks, flashing some cash, buying women drinks and trying to get some at a local singles bar.

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Brandy smiled as she assessed her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She had tried on her new work uniform and what there was of it, fit her like a glove. Brandy had just completed her freshman year at college and decided to make a little money over the summer. She had accepted a waitressing job at Hooters and the famous orange satin shorts and white tank top had never looked better.

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Lucy Wright was forty two and divorced with two grown sons. Both sons were in college but that did not mean much as the college was just across town. John the oldest was a senior and due to graduate in the fall. He had an apartment near campus, which he shared with his girlfriend. Joe the youngest was a sophomore and lived at home most of the time.

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She walked into his office knowing what this meeting was about. Earlier that day, Sarah had received an email from one of her professors wanting to discuss an important topic. While the email didn't specify what the topic was, Sarah knew her last paper was below standards. She had just started dating someone and, while she knew she shouldn't, Sarah was putting less effort into her school work and more into her new relationship.

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"Are we nearly there yet? This doesn't look anywhere classy." Clarissa tried to keep the petulance out of her voice. She knew she should be flattered by the stretch-limo and the Dom Perignon, glass number three of which was fizzing its way down her throat, but why the hell were they driving about dingy back-streets?

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PART 1 John Mason was twenty-seven when his father died fucking his young twenty year old secretary on a supposed business conference in Dundee, Scotland. In truth, the fifty- four year old was regularly fucking whenever he could. Since he owned fifty-five per cent of the company, he could afford to do what he liked. This time however, it cost him his life. John's mother had died when he was young.

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