Your erotic stories

So here it was, Thanksgiving Day, and I found myself in a strange man's bathroom, with my pantyhose pulled down around my knees, my dress hiked up over my hips, and that strange man's cock sliding in and out of my pussy. Well, in truth, he wasn't a complete stranger ... he was my boyfriend's father and I had met him two hours prior. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning.

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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"No. No. No. Maybe if I was drunk. No. No." Reaching my hands up and placing them lazily behind my head, I reclined against the large oak tree at my back and continued to check out the steady stream of girls walking past me. "No. Yes. No." I said to myself, as a trio of eighteen year olds made their way past, casting a few flirtatious glances my way.

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When you start writing a fiction story, it's fun to think about where to start. But when you're writing a true story, especially one with a lot of threads runnings through it, deciding where to start is really hard. There are so many strands involved in explaining the key event, and people won't understand you if you don't describe them well. They may even judge you.

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Her throat was burning and she found it hard to breathe. Her knees were aching from supporting her entire weight for too long on the cold tile floor. These pains were tolerable, minor even, compared to the humiliation that she had just experienced and even more painful still was knowing that she was about to endure an ever greater embarrassment.

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Darren Lyons was quite surprised when he answered his doorbell and beheld Jennifer, a friend of his daughter there. The two young women had graduated from high school together the and were currently in the their second year at a local community college, so the visitor should have known her friend would not be home.

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I walked into my dorm room and sighed in relief. It smelled like beer, sweat and sex, but at least it was quiet. It was Friday night and my roommate Matt went out earlier with his girlfriend Sandra. They liked to party heavily, especially on the weekend. They also both liked to fuck like rabbits when they got back from a night out and usually they were so drunk they didn't care if they had an audience or not, or more likely, didn't notice. The good news was that they tended to get it over with fast and pass out.

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Courtney had always been intrigued by thoughts of being with another woman. In her small town though, it was a taboo never to be acted upon. She dated plenty of guys in High School, even allowing one to take her virginity, yet, none of those relationships were fulfilling for her. She felt something was missing, a void that would be filled by time spent with her close female friends, yet even then, she knew there was something more, something unattainable at the time.

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Becky Freeman couldn't believe her luck. Here she was, an eighteen-year-old girl visiting a sorority house at the college she planned on attending in the fall, stuck sitting bored on a couch instead of exploring campus or checking out any of the weekend parties. As part of the school's orientation program she was paired up with one of the current students as a chaperone of sorts.

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"Hey red, got four quarters for a dollar?" Melodie Taylor looked up quickly from her book of poetry at the sound of the loud contralto voice. Startled, she thought she would be alone here in the Westside Laundromat. It was after eleven PM and she didn't like being off campus this late, but it was necessary. Studying for her finals had put her way behind in her washing and her sorority sisters in Gamma House were using all the machines in their basement.

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