Your erotic stories

They were sitting on the couch in his room, him laid across her lap and her scratching his head. Who knows what they were talking about; hours had passed by but time seemed to have stopped. Somehow, they got on the subject of muscle kinks. "I don't know what it is but I get the worst knots in my back. Maybe I'm sleeping on it wrong...Wish I hadn't missed that massage appointment!" she said.

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I had been reveling in Talia Dean's need for me. She came, practically on her knees, to get me to give it up to her. Considering I was a scrawny 150-pound nobody, it was nice. Here she was, the star quarterback's girlfriend in my room almost every night telling me how much she needed me and how much she appreciated me slipping it to her on the side.

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The sexual tension between us had been growing for months. It was easy to disguise to all of the other restaurant staff but we felt it. In a restaurant, especially a busy one, it is easy to bump into others or touch them to avoid slamming into them and half the time you don't even realize you are doing it. We knew we were doing it.

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Katie hummed to herself as she strolled down the hallway, her small arms holding a large basket of laundry braced against her stomach. As she reached to door to the laundry room, she pinned the basket to the wall as she dug for her key in her pocket. As she produced the tiny key, she lifted a knee to help her shaking arm bear the weight of the encumbering load as she struggled to slip it into the door. As the towering basket tipped to the side, a sock fell off onto the floor.

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My eyes popped open as I heard the sound of a key working its way into the lock of my front door. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before glancing over at the clock on the wall. "2:52," I muttered, slightly frustrated. I had expected Ashley to come home hours ago, and had apparently dozed off while waiting up for her to return.

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My jaw was hanging wide open in disbelief as I set the phone down. "Oh my." I thought to myself. "I've got to share this with someone. My mind was racing through an internal address book trying to figure out who would be the safest person to share the juiciest gossip I had ever heard from the actual horse's mouth in my life.

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"No! For the last time, will you shut-up about this?" Rachel was scowling at her boyfriend who was laying in bed beside her. Dan still retained a mildly smug expression after their sex which had finished some minutes ago, although the truth was she had faked her orgasm. She wasn't proud of that but Dan always liked to make a big deal about making her climax and it was far easier to let him feel this way. Like many women she didn't often orgasm through penetration.

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The summer after I graduated from college I crashed on my big sister Trish's couch for a few months. What else was I supposed to do? I had earned a bachelor's degree in anthropology, which translated to no money and no job prospects. She had a little house in the woods outside the town we grew up in, and she said I could stay there as long as I needed. She'd mentioned something about having a boyfriend, but I didn't realize until I got there that he was pretty much living with her.

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I'm sitting here wondering what tomorrow will bring. My stomach has been hurting me for months and I finally made a doctor's appointment. I must admit I'm a little scared. Cancer is too dominant in today's society. Maybe I just have a stomach problem. Time will tell. I'm a sixty-three year old man who has been married for forty-two of those years. My wife is now sixty-six.

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"329, 331, 333..." I muttered to myself, reading the numbers off the doors as I made my way down the narrow hotel hallway. I could almost hear the sound of my own nervous heartbeat over the quiet buzzing of a nearby ice machine as I pushed my hand into my pocket to pull out a folded, crumpled piece of paper. Cursing myself for the inability to calm my shaking nerves, I unfolded the small parchment and read the number scrawled upon it.

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