Your erotic stories

"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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Eight months of hell, that's what it's been! I don't know now why I ever accepted that job offer through the university when I graduated, other than the fact that I was a referral from the Dean's Office, an extremely rare gesture from Brender University. To give you a little background, and why I ended up in this mess, let me explain.

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Billie was tiny, less than 5' tall, maybe 4'10" , weighed maybe 100 lbs., and cute as she could be. She was wearing a short-skirt skating outfit like ice skaters wear, but it was a roller-rink. Jay, John and I had been watching her and her boyfriend from High School (they'd enrolled at the Baptist College in town together) whirl around the floor, her like the little acrobat she was, him stumbling along with her. He was almost as clumsy as she was adept.

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I'd gone to the kitchen in Jay's apartment to get myself a sparkling water from the fridge—we couldn't drink what we'd really like to drink during the performance season—when his doorbell rang, and he let his landlord in. I just stayed out of sight in the kitchen, because I knew this was going to be unpleasant and I didn't want the landlord, who I'd heard was a real ass, to get the idea that I'd moved in with Jay after Dalton died. Which I hadn't, and I didn't think there was any chance Jay would let me.

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Claudia sat on the edge of her lawn recline chair, rubbing suntan lotion over her bare, 36-B breasts. Her nipples became erect as she softly caressed them in the process. Once finished, she sat the bottle of lotion on the ground next to her yellow bikini top, and then pulled her blonde hair back and secured it into a ponytail before picking up her wide-brimmed baseball cap off the ground and putting it on her head. Then she grabbed her dark-black sunglasses and put them on before laying back on the chair to soak up the sun.

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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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Cassie Stevens was a stunning woman. She kept herself in amazing shape, particularly for a mother of two, and for someone her age. At over 40 years old, she was still able to turn heads, and she knew it. Her body was a testament to the many hours she put in at the gym and in her yoga classes. She was slim and toned, with an ass women half her age would kill for. Her breasts were not exactly enormous, but were a decent size, and lacked the sag many of her friends experienced, again thanks to her commitment to physical fitness.

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Gina Slater knew she was in some bother the moment he walked into her kitchen through her back door. It was Tuesday morning and she had just got over the weekend, she had held a party for her husband's 45th birthday on Saturday night, and it had been a hoot, a riot, a terrific success, one she barely hoped for. All their friends, a lot of his colleagues had come, everyone had a great time, and the party had gone on and on.

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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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I walked into the apartment and heard unmistakable sex noises coming from the room of our roommate, Leah. There was loud moaning and grunting, and the bed rhythmically slamming against the wall. OK, I should start from the beginning. Early in my relationship with my girlfriend, Lauren, we had a two-bedroom apartment downtown. The second room was mostly unused until Lauren's friend Stacy had mentioned that her best friend, Leah, was starting law school nearby and needed a place to live.

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