Your erotic stories

"I was afraid you'd never speak to me again, Edie." David ran a hand down my arm and a shiver followed behind, sending goosebumps popping across my skin. "I don't know what possessed me to take a risk like that." He looked at me carefully. I waited, heart beating hard. It seemed to take ages from the time he began to bend toward me until his lips touched mine. I thought, in that seemingly endless interval, I would faint from anticipation and disbelief.

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My name is Kay. I'm a 31 year-old, happily un-married middle-class white woman with a marvelous life - except for being addicted to sex. Maybe it's only the risk factor that I'm addicted to. I honestly don't know, but I do know I'll sometimes take awful risks to anonymously and spontaneously fuck total strangers. There, now that I have that part out of the way maybe I can also be honest with the rest of what I want to explain.

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"Just take it," my best friend whispered in my ear before switching aisles. Like a pro, she pocketed a pack of gummy bears to go with a bag of chips. It stunned me that she could be so apathetic about the whole thing. Stealing? I'd never stolen anything in my life -- not even first base! Yet with nervous hands, I picked up a little baggie of Swedish fish, and looked towards the register. The man there was sitting with his feet up on the counter and his head down, staring into a home and gardening magazine.

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I looked up at Emma's beautiful body, marveling at its perfection. She is athletic and toned with pert B-cup breasts which were quivering. Her face is heart-shaped and crowned with thick ash-blond hair cut to a medium length. Her eyes were closed, and her pink lipped mouth was open. I let my gaze travel down her smooth creamy flesh noting the trimmed line of her pubic hair. God I was going to miss her!

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Summer classes had always been a drag for me. The students were always more captivated by the rays of sunlight crashing through foggy classroom windows than with my explanations on how context was one of the most important aspects to master when translating a literary work. And more often than not the students were as fogged up as the windows were as they fought off the haze of the previous night's partying. Not that I blames them -- there were still parts of my early days attending university that were a blur.

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I always looked up to Blaine; she was like the big sister I never had. Blaine taught me everything, from how to walk in heels to getting a guy to pay for your drinks. I really loved it; hell, I loved her. It killed me to admit it, but I really did. Not in the awkward way a brother loves a sister, or the passionate way a husband loves a wife, but in a secret, silent way that was embarrassing to think about.

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How long have you been there? You have no idea anymore. The combination of the hood and the enveloping silence have deprived your brain of the information it needs to track time. All you know is that your arms hurt. More specifically your shoulders. Your arms tied up above you at the wrists mean you've been slung here on your knees with your full weight going through your slender shoulders all this time.

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Tiffany Andrews arrived early for her appointment with Miss Elizabeth Jones, Principle of Hedley Coleville Academy. She had only been to the office of the exclusive school once before, when she had enrolled her two children, Amber who was 12 and Derrick 10.

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