Your erotic stories

Most secretaries would be fired for wearing a low-cut blouse like hers. Most secretaries wouldn't get away with a tight pencil-skirt and the almost-visible suspenders around her thighs either. Most secretaries, however, aren't married to their bosses – and today is their anniversary. There are flowers on Lana's desk when she comes in, high heels clicking on the oak floor. That gets a smile from her, which isn't always easy this early in the morning; it's still dark outside.

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"My mom's convinced I won't graduate without getting pregnant," Kaylea told me, tucking in her shirt before tying her apron around her waist. "There are ways to make sure that doesn't happen," I joked. She rolled her eyes at me. "I'm serious, Kaylea." "I know," she said. "I'm careful. I won't get pregnant, Tim, I promise." As her boss instead of a teacher or parent, I knew I could say things to her other adults couldn't. "Famous last words of eighteen year olds everywhere," I teased right before adding the words I never should have said.

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It was just a few weeks after Linda's 18th birthday, and her big sister Kathy was home from school. "Are you sure that you're ready for this?" Kathy asked. Linda looked at her with anticipation. "Yes, I said I was. But I don't know what to expect." "I don't want you to know. But this should answer some of those questions you ask me." "About what?" Linda asked. "I hope it's the sex questions!" she giggled nervously.

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My name is Erin, and I'm going to tell you about my first anal experience – well, actually my first four anal experiences! It happened last year after had just turned 18 and was a junior in high school and dating a guy named Kevin. It all started on the bus rides home from our volleyball games. We girls would get to talking and eventually the conversation would always turn to sex.

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"I can't believe you're making me do this," Natalie said as she stood on the hotel balcony at three a.m. with the wind blowing through her strawberry-blonde hair. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, and though she didn't see any signs of life, someone down in the darkness would be a lot harder to see than she would be on the balcony — dimly lit as it was. She could see the excitement in Gene's eyes as he caressed her shoulder. "You lost the bet fair and square."

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She had gotten drunk, very, very drunk. She had no clue how she'd gotten home. She sat up only to flinch as she opened her eyes. Ouch! She saw two pills and a glass of water by the bed, along with a note. She reached for the pills and water, hoping they would help kill the pain from one hell of a hangover. Damn it, what had happened last night? As she drank the water, shadowy memories of the night before crept into her mind.

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I'm so done with this school, with these ridiculous uniforms and my jackass classmates trying to look up my skirt and down my shirt. (Who picked these clothes? I mean the skirt is halfway up the thighs for god's sake. And these shirts must have been designed for girls who, well, didn't develop as early and as, uh, fully as me - which, trust me, is not all it's cracked up to be, big tits are huge pain even in clothes that weren't poorly designed for someone a lot _smaller_.

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Since the first time I came across her she was the sexiest woman I ever seen. I was alone in the break room at the office job I work at, since most everyone else ate lunch at the surrounding fast food places. I'm Joseph Sanchez, an average lookin guy that worked at this call center for a few months now and was still learning the ropes on helping people pay their water bills.

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Peter was dozing on the London bound train. It was 8.30 on Friday evening. He had had a busy week's work, and as he had nothing planned for the weekend, he had decided at the last minute to head into London in search of some fun. Aged 25, tall, good-looking with shortish, dark hair, he had little problem in pulling girls when he had the mind for it, but had no interest at present in a long term relationship.

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Note: Your comments or constructive criticism mean a lot to me. Feel free to leave me a private message if you'd like to share your thoughts, get updates on future chapters or receive a personalized photo of my cock. Statement of veracity: This is a true story. Well, everything up to the break point. I'll leave it to you to guess which of these is the full true story.

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