Your erotic stories

The young man beside her was silent, lost in his own morose thoughts. Ginny concentrated on the icy highway in front of them, a hint of apprehension gripping her as they approached the Eisenhower Tunnel. Even though she had lived in the Rockies for sixteen years and made the drive from Vail to Denver weekly, this particular stretch of Interstate 70, approaching the Continental Divide, never failed to frighten her. Once more she wished she'd brought her husband's four-wheel drive, if only because it sat up higher and gave a better view.

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The ad read, "Urban domina, 40-something, tall, large breasted, and still menstruating, seeks slave to service lovely feet, legs, ass,....etc. Must have experience and great tongue. No inhibitions, please. Only those willing to serve need call. The curious will be ignored.". And it gave the number to call. A pissy woman answered, and asked how old I was, and WHERE I got the number. Very politely, I explained that I was twenty-two, a graduate student new to the city, and found the number in the local left-wing newspaper. She gave a dismissive chuckle, and asked what I was studying.

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Ursula almost remembered the dream that night. The alarm shattered most of it; even as she was waking up, the strident buzzing noise crashed through the memories, leaving nothing but fragments. She grasped at them, trying to hang onto something, anything at all. There was a hand, she knew, a hand sliding down the swell of her hip and...and a taste like wet rubber...no good. It was gone. Ursula hit the snooze button, but the dream didn't come back.

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Early in the morning of August 21, 1863 William Clarke Quantrell and his band of Missouri ruffians sacked and burned the city of Lawrence, Kansas and changed my life forever. Amost all of the city was destroyed including the Lawrence Journal newspaper, where I worked, and the Eldridge House Hotel, where I lived. Fortunately I was in Topeka on that day, covering the newly-formed and very contentious Kansas Legislature.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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"What about those two? They look positively scrumptious," Dani whispered to me as we took in the warm Caribbean sunrays, lounging on the beach of our resort in our cabana chairs. Those 'two' were a couple of college-aged guys with ripped abs, bulging speedos and most certainly, cougar-worthy.

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Janelle had never heard of such a thing, but reading the description that day last spring had instantly moistened her pussy: "A tribute is a video in which a guy looks at a girl's picture as he masturbates, saying how much her picture turns him on, how hot it makes him to see her body, her nipples, her butt, maybe even just the outline of her breast beneath a sheer top if that's all the girl is showing in the picture. As he talks and strokes for the camera, he gets more turned on, and it's clear that he's going to come.

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He was 34 and had been in her sandwich shop a few times now. And he was handsome too; but running a busy shop and with a family of her own, most conversations with customers were cordial. So when the franchise company had their annual meeting at the hotel and she saw him there, they had a laugh but it was all very cordial. At 42, she didn't think she had much appealing about her but she was wrong.

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Madison felt a little self-conscience. Somehow her boyfriend, Billy, had talked her into wearing her collegiate cheerleader uniform to the frat party. She had reluctantly agreed because she knew some of the other girls on the team would probably be wearing theirs. Billy had on his football jersey, all the boys wore their number when they were together and out among fellow students, so it helped Madison not feel so alone and awkward.

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She reaches up & turns the radio a little bit louder. Dipping her hands back into the soapy water she goes back to washing the dishes. Her body sways as she dances & sings along with the music. He stops in the doorway, silently watching her as she moves. Looking her over he smiles, completely nude save the silver collar around her neck & the leather ankle cuffs. She has grown accustomed to being naked, even come to like it.

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