Your erotic stories

I was at my professional peak, but single and unattached. My profession is a jealous mistress, demanding constant attention, but paying rich dividends to her ardent worshippers. I had very volatile sexual urges but remained celibate through adolescence with the help of pornography and later on with the net. I was wary of women and my sexual preferences became more defined. As a professional I was aggressive and was clothed in the aura of aggressiveness.

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I was bored in a lecture staring at the screen hoping Dr Allen would finish his droning on. I played with my flats dangling them of one foot then the other not really thinking about the lecture. As I copied down a few words I returned to zoning out thinking of going into town to buy some stuff afterwards.

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I had known Janice for some time but never really talked to her. It's like that in a local bar; you see people but never really get to know them. Anyhow she worked at the hospital as a nurse and always wore the old fashion nurse uniform of white skirt and hose. Every time she came in every guy in the bar would stare. Now she wasn't the most beautiful woman but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her really attractive.

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It was a gorgeous, sunny day in late July just about a week before my birthday. I had just signed off on an incredible deal that was going to make my company millions and net me a signing bonus big enough to keep me in very expensive shoes for a very long time to come. As I settled into my high back leather chair behind the great mahogany desk that is the centerpiece of my office, I gave a little stretch and yawn and kicked off my four and half inch patent leather pumps.

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I look at the clock. It's 8 p.m. It's a Thursday night and I'm still at the office. My report is due Friday and I've got at least 2 hours left on it. My whole team has gone home, and my interest in working for another two hours is waning. It's been a long hard week. My stomach starts to rumble. Good idea, I'll get some food. It may motivate me to get this crappy report finished.

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Sarah stood in the shade of the thatch-roofed picnic shelter, sipping on a diet coke as she spitefully contemplated how her weekend had been completely ruined. After two continuous weeks of stressful work, she had been relishing this much needed weekend to herself. That was until Friday night, when a dreaded phone call from her cheerily coercive mother had ended all her hope of relaxation.

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I was sitting in my living room that Sunday morning, working on the broken clasp of one of my anklets, my favorite anklet. The most expensive piece of jewelry I owned, it was a silver chain studded with diamond chips given to me by an ex-girlfriend. But the price tag was hardly the reason I cherished it. She gave it to me last year for my twenty- fourth birthday and I considered it a sign of how she felt about me. I was in love with her and it was her way of saying she felt the same.

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"I hate her," Joe muttered as he watched Natalie bounce through the crowded college courtyard. Two years, they had been together. Two years of wasted emotion, compromises, and plans. Hell, they hadn't really started making love until these last few months, and that's why he had thought she was the one. "'Let's save ourselves until we're sure,'" he grumbled.

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I can still remember the first time I asked her if I could do it. I had always had a fascination for tasting my own semen, you see. My wife Megan had indulged me certain levels of satisfaction in this matter but refused to let me give her oral after sex. She said it was "gross".

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"What was your most interesting photo shoot, Natasha?" Alex asked. His digital SLR snapped in the silence of the hotel room. I held my pose, wondering how honest I should be. "Well, I did a shoot last year wearing nothing but body paint," I offered, the over-stuffed comforter pressed softly between my legs.

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