Your erotic stories

"Honey?" My girlfriend pushed me away gently and said the word I feared the most. We had just entered her apartment and by the time she locked the door I couldn't resist. I started kissing her. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever been with. But every time she said, "Honey" it was always followed by something I wouldn't like.

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Our family spent two weeks every summer at a seaside holiday camp. We had been going there for years and knew most of the families who also took their holiday over that same two week slot. There were heaps of kids and the adults all enjoyed socialising with each other. At eighteen I was one of the older of the "children" in the group which was good in some ways but a bit of a drag in others.

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One evening, when I was taking a nap after a long day of productive work, the doorbell rang. I usually didn't open my door unless I was expecting someone, but I guess I was tired, since this time I did it without thinking. Behind the door were standing three women dressed in identical mannish-looking but femininely cut suits and ties. Two of them were wearing sunglasses even though it was evening and they were indoors.

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She's got long, straight blond hair that always smells like coconut, a pair of legs that make up two-thirds of her height, and a round, narrow little ass. She also has an insolent, self-satisfied swagger, a pert, better-than-thou smirk, and a fifty-dollar manicure. I've taught a few like her before, and I know the way it goes. She's seen how I look at her. She's slacked off this whole term. I can tell she thinks she can scam an A out of me by shaking her ass.

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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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"I've been in quite a writing rut lately, with several of my best stories left unfinished for months now. Many people tell me the only way to get out of a writer's block is to keep writing. Hence, I wrote this story based off something peculiar I noticed at a party; a girl sniffing a pair of flats. At first, I amused myself with the idea the girl had a foot fetish, but soon realized they were hers when she immediately put them on.

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I love him to death. I really do. He's a wonderful husband, and the greatest dad in the world. I've been working so many hours and running back and forth to Chicago that he has had to practically becum the full time dad and part time mom. I regret the time I spend away but I'm becoming more and more successful, more and more renowned and I don't want to lose this. I've faded into the background for much too long; it's time for me to make my mark in the world.

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Gail King, a natural blonde with a figure sculptured perhaps by the sculptor's gardener employed to shape shrubs rather than by the sculptor himself was deposited on rickety jetty on Kismet Island where there was a small roof on four poles for shelter. "Don't worry love," said the deckhand with an unusually soft Aussie accent as she steered the inflatable away from the jetty ready to roar over the reef to return to the mother boat, a rusting tub that looked ready to sink.

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Summer was excited. Today was the big day. The one she had been looking forward to for over a month now. She was finally meeting a man. Of course, this wasn't a regular arranged date, and Summer was no regular woman. The sultry Redhead had arranged a little play date with an eager man she had been speaking to on the internet. It had been so long since she had done something as exciting as this. Danni, as usual, had accepted the situation with enthusiasm, eager to please her mistress.

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Gina let out a quiet groan when she was awakened by the clock radio alarm. Blue Christmas by Elvis was playing, and the music merged with her feelings as she'd drifted off to sleep. The bed shifted, and she knew Brian was sitting up to shut off the alarm. In a fit of pique, she rolled over, facing the wall. A quiet sigh let her know that the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed.

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