Your erotic stories

I slipped into my dorm room after my calculus class. Sunlight poured through the blinds in narrow streams that set the ambient dust aglow in the air. Tiny motes of golden light curtained the room, made it hard to see. I stumbled towards my bed, tripping over clothes and shoes.

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Saturday I peered into the rearview mirror and saw the familiar VW logo of Jenna's Jetta. Not that I was worried about her finding her way. We'd been driving this route to the beach for over 15 of her 20 years, so she certainly knew the route. It was pretty much a straight shot from Columbia to Charleston on I-26 and then a short jog over to Isle of Palms. Nothing to it.

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It had been a rough week. Fighting with the wife had made my night life quite quiet. To top it all off she had decided to go and visit her mother for the weekend. She must have been really pissed off as she told our daughter that she could have one of her college friends spend the night. I wasn't really impressed as I was now responsible for the two of them and all their miscreant behaviors.

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She's got long, straight blond hair that always smells like coconut, a pair of legs that make up two-thirds of her height, and a round, narrow little ass. She also has an insolent, self-satisfied swagger, a pert, better-than-thou smirk, and a fifty-dollar manicure. I've taught a few like her before, and I know the way it goes. She's seen how I look at her. She's slacked off this whole term. I can tell she thinks she can scam an A out of me by shaking her ass.

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When she crossed over I-80, Nancy snuggled her lean frame into the soft leather that was wrapped around the driver's seat and kicked off her heels. The countryside and farms blurred beside her and she day-dreamed as the car continued its course, almost on autopilot, down I-57 towards Champaign, Illinois. She enjoyed these drives. They represented the only time during the week when she could shut down, block out the irritations of her life.

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The phone's catcall squirmed its way under the covers. The ringing passed over the hills and valleys of Aurelio's fluffy black comforter and worn green sheets. The sound found the soft corners of his skull and nestled in there, curled around itself like a small dog and settled down for the wait.

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"I'm concerned about your work in this course, Theresa. You've already missed three assignments, you haven't been to half of my classes, and your midterm research assignment is due in two weeks. How is that coming? Have you started it?" "Yes, Professor Burk, but I don't know what to write. I tried to do the other assignments, but I'm behind in all my classes.

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I had literally creamed myself almost nightly for Phil's body, but Phil was about as straight as they come—and getting all the female tail he could handle if all the talk around campus was true. We were both attending the university on athletic scholarships—Phil on a football and baseball scholarship and me on a wrestling scholarship, wrestling being a good way for me to get down and dirty with other hot, sweating, muscular dudes.

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Amy stormed into her dorm room and threw her books on her desk. "Damnit, I'm freaking failing this class!" Her roommate Carey looked up at her, wide eyed, from her computer. "What class is it?" she asked, eyeing her rather angry friend. "Stupid Computer Science! I fucking hate it, but I need the stupid credit!" Amy snarled, her voice sharp.

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This account of some of the events in my life was written as requested by the love of my life, my soul mate, my sister Abby. Here it is 1972 and I am living in Mobile, Alabama. Not sure how I ended up here but it seemed like a nice place to settle after drifting for a few months. I am enrolled in college and have made a few friends. With my injuries and scars from Viet Nam I am a little shy around people. I lost an eye and I wear a black patch over it.

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