Your erotic stories

God, he was big; one of the biggest. Shit, he could fuck. Panting, panting, I grabbed the metal legs of the cot on either side in a death grip, my cheek pressed into the rough woolen blanket, my eyes bugging out and my mouth slack and open in a silent scream, as he drove it harder, deeper inside me. Cruel. Rough. Just what I wanted. Just what I needed.

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The absolute worst thing about being a student, living in a crappy, run down apartment, has to be having no access to laundry facilities. On Saturday mornings, when most of Eric's friends were recovering from the night before, or maybe getting some homework done, Eric would be at the laundromat trying to beat the noon rush of other students who lived nearby.

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"Hey, man, is it okay if I fuck yer wife?" I opened my eyes slowly and saw a fit young man with a turgid cock sticking out in front of him and an awkward smile on his face. From somewhere it registered that his name was Derrik. Hearing scuffling on the floor I focused still more and recognized my dirty blond wife being eaten out by a chubby black haired wench with a tattoo on her back.

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The Gash was the worst beat in town, and being the cop working it meant that you had three options: get promoted and get reassigned, leave the force, or wait to die. Cops had a shorter lifespan in The Gash than a white-girl's virginity did in a rap concert. I had worked this beat once, before I took done a cop-killing drug-dealing Puerto Rican slut named La Zorra and made vice. There was no need for me to come back to this shitty-ass place, but I wanted to. The Gash was my connection to someone I cared about. Someone who needed my help.

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"How did I get myself into this mess?" I thought to myself as I lay there on the bottom bunk, in my new home for awhile. I jail cell in the State Penitentiary, with 'Terry the Terror' as my new roommate. My nightmare started three days ago when I decided to buy some weed. I had went to a seedy part of town just looking for a little weed, nothing more.

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It hadn't been that long ago at all that their sleep over's were nothing but staying up all night drinking as many Red Bull's as their young bodies could take talking about nothing in particular while listening to whatever new music Naiya had downloaded onto her computer and they chatted with one friend or another on MySpace, AIM or through texts until they simply collapsed from exhaustion.

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