Your erotic stories

Jenni had come to work at my office as the payroll manager about a year ago. She was in her early thirties, married with a couple of kids. She had silky, straight brown hair, shoulder-length and cut in bangs, green eyes and wore glasses. She was hardly a great beauty, there was something about her face I found attractive.

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Let's start with the boring stuff. My name is Caronne, I'm just over six foot and slim, with almost no boobs but large nipples. I have long brown hair that reaches about halfway down my back and hazel eyes. The following is a true story...

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The great walled port city of Sirtus sat on the edge of the Mycean Sea. A many thousand ships hove into its port each day, and a great deal as many departed in the same. No market square was empty, and few pockets hung limp in the trousers of their owners. Trade boomed, honor ruled, and hearts loved. But Paolo the merchant had, as of late, found himself distant from his wife Francesca. To be sure, she was pleasing to look upon. But the women of Sirtus were in no short supply, and all of them seemed so much fairer than his own.

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Coitus interuptus has long been my favourite method of birth control - even when I’m on the pill. Having a guy pull out suddenly and then come over my belly is enough to bring me to orgasm. Especially if he groans a lot and falls forward onto me, squishing the cream between us. And doing it doggie style is definitely my favourite.

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This story came about quite unexpectedly. It involves a good friend of mine, William. We have known each other since high school and he was one of the few I have kept in touch with over the years. By coincidence, we have both been living in Knoxville together for years. It has not been uncommon for us to hang out, have movies nights, or a night out on the town. I hooked him up with one of my girlfriends, Sarah, and the two of them seemed to hit it off well. So well, in fact that they dated for about two years.

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I have just taken my assigned right aisle seat in first class and opened the latest issue of "Newsweek" and begun to read a story about Terrorism in Iraq and suddenly - you walk through the entrance to the seating section of the Boeing 747. There is a certain air about you as you enter; every male in the front passenger area is staring at you.

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What a difference two days can make. When I woke up the day before yesterday, I was lying in a hospital bed with more cables attached to me than a substation feeding New York City. At least that's the way it seemed. I really don't remember how I got there, but they tell me that I was rushed to the hospital after passing out at the mall.

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As Linda there on her bed, her mind began to wander. She had just gotten home from work, and had decided to lie down for a few minutes before starting dinner. And as she laid there, she started thinking about an amazing massage that she had gotten a few days ago, and the incredibly beautiful woman who had given it to her. This Lady Masseuse was new at the gym, and her name was Tina (or at least that was what it said on her name tag).

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After Nick and Tom left the room, Scott stared for some minutes at his mom's naked body. The woman was breathing deeply, still passed out from the long wild fucking. Her swollen breasts were ondulating on her chest; her left arm was stretched out over her head, showing the delicious curve of one ivory-white armpit.

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I met Brian Carmichael in early July. I remember this because it was almost a week after my fifth birthday. I was in the driveway of our yard, playing with a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer that my Uncle Jake had bought me for my birthday. I looked up and saw a small black dog (a Labrador retriever, I later found out) run across our lawn. The dog wandered over to me, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

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