Your erotic stories

Tyler had been friends with Jason since the 4th grade. They had grown up together in the same sleepy neighborhood, never apart for more than a few weeks of family vacation. Now they were hanging out on one of the last summer nights before they started their senior year of high school. Both were hoping for the promise and excitement of the end of high school to be all they had heard and more.

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John glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 6 in the evening, and Gina, his beautiful bride, was expected home shortly. He placed a bookmark in his novel and rose to check on dinner. He could hear the pasta happily bubbling away on the stove. Moving towards the oven, he flicked on the oven light and bent down to look at the pork roast that was slowly cooking its way to perfection. John and his wife had one rule for their marriage: The one who does the cooking gets to control the events of the evening for the same amount of time as it takes that person to make the meal.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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You couldn't forget Crystal. Beautiful, tall, with long black hair, dark green eyes and a full mouth that was usually laughing at something or someone, and always painted with a startling red lipstick. Her full tits clamoured for your attention, invariably only just contained by the fabric of some immaculate designer outfit, worn with high black boots with higher heels. But the most memorable thing among the many things about Crystal was what you saw when she walked away - her broad and glorious arse.

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Jade sat at the dining room table and re-read her paper for the tenth time. She started out telling herself that she would finish up some notes on one endless section of her dissertation, just to make sure that it was cohesive. That was four hours ago. At this point, she was exhausted and done with the whole damn thing.

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When I went in there weren't too many people in the coffee shop. It's a bigger coffee place, the Java Palace, and it has a lot of nooks and crannies; but on Wednesday evenings there's usually not much of a crowd and they only have one barista. I had a lot on my plate; I'm the night concierge at the budget inn downtown, and I had to finish a paper on pre-revolution Russia for my twentieth-century history class. I sidled up to the counter.

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Carly hit the "info" button on her remote, to scan the Friday night cable schedule. Her boyfriend was working tonight, and wouldn't be home until at least 3:00am. She had the whole night to herself, and she was going to make the most of it. On the kitchen counter, she had a bottle of tequila, just begging to be opened. She poured a double shot into a short glass, took a sip, and closed her eyes as the warm liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat.

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"Fffffffff!" Emma seethed as she slipped the dildo into her pussy, all six inches being swallowed whole by her desperate cunt. She sighed with relief as she slid it inside as far as it would go. Satisfied it was in deep enough, Emma lifted her legs up and slipped her panties and tights on, and put her jeans on over the top, all still while lying on the bed. She paused a moment, her jeans hadn't yet been buttoned or zipped up.

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"So, come on, tell me!" Jessica looked up at me, smiling, her head resting on the pillow next to me as we lay in bed, our naked bodies still glistening with sweat. Her left wrist resting on my chest, her thin fingers tracing tiny circles as I breathed heavily, having just had an orgasm a few minutes previously.

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Like any other good day, today started out with my wonderful Dom tying me up. Nothing puts me in a better mood than feeling the touch of rope on my skin -- the only thing that centers me more is feeling his hand in my hair as I kneel in front of him.

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