Your erotic stories

I am leaving work about fifteen minutes behind everyone else. I got stuck on the phone and missed the mass exodus to the parking garage. I hate walking though the structure in the dark by myself. Even though nothing has ever happened here, I still don't feel safe. The dim lighting and confusing echoes make me nervous. I walk quickly with my head up, clutching my keys tightly in my hand.

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I woke up Sunday morning with an erection. What else is new, right? I ran my hand down across my chest and belly, over my hard cock and balls, and got the same little thrill I got the first time I touched myself in a sexual way, when I was about 10 years old. Life is good! Forty-two years old and I can still get turned on just by touching myself. I looked over at Cindy to see if she was awake yet.

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I love date night. Not only does it mean I get to spend quality time with my girl, but I am also pretty much guaranteed to get laid at the end of the night. Tonight was Saturday night and I was getting ready for our night out. Khaki pants, a light blue collared shirt, and a blazer completed my outfit. Right as I was getting ready to tie my shoes I heard my girlfriend yelling at me from our bedroom, "Hey honey, can you come here for a minute?"

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Sharon and I have been married close to seven years now, and for the most part it's been great. The sex isn't as plentiful or varied as it was at first, but I gather that's par for the course. I've never felt the need to have sex with anyone else, unless you count Bruno. I consider myself completely straight, but a while back I bought a dildo (that's Bruno) and I like to use it on myself whenever I get a chance. Even that had purely heterosexual origins.

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I chose a table in the food court of the Mall and sat down to eat my salad during an unsuccessful hour of shopping for some new outfits. I ate absent-mindedly and people-watched as I picked through the salad greens and sliced tomatoes on my plate. The food court began to fill as if everyone suddenly came over all hungry and I was soon surrounded by noisy teens, tired seniors simply wanting to get off their feet, and some families with restless kids.

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Penny Parker was drinking her father's rum and getting a little high. Her parents would be gone for two weeks and trusted her to watch the house. Penny was diddling her wet pussy as she looked at her father's dirty books that he kept hidden under the bed. The eighteen year old girl was still a virgin but was far from pure. She loved to tease the boys at school and watch their dicks get hard but never pleased them.

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My name is Kashish, and this is the story of how my life changed from an ordinary, conservative young woman to everything I am proud of being today. I was born to a regular middle class family in India and for the 18 years I had stayed there, I had all the values and culture instilled in me and it was always expected that I would abide by everything I was taught.

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When the Black Death swept through her village in central Germany, Brigette didn't really understand the changes it would bring to her life. Indeed, no one was prepared for the chaos that arose from nearly half the village not being able to work – and then beginning to die. Suddenly it seemed that everyone was sick and everyone huddled in their homes, afraid of human contact. But it came home to her when her mother and older brother came down with it, and then both her younger sisters the next day.

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It was a reasonable summer's day for England, the sun was out and it was quite warm. Not warm enough to sunbath by any stretch of the imagination, but it made my 300 mile trip back from University a bit less grim. I am always in a better mood when it is a nice day. I had the radio on singing away. I was wearing a white skirt and a white vest top.. The skirt was well above my knees, not super short, but not massively long either. The vest top stopped just above my navel showing off my belly button piercing which I had had done on my 18th birthday just because I was never allowed one before that.

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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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