Your erotic stories

When Jack and Lisa, friends from my college days, asked me to be the photographer for their wedding I was more than happy to oblige. I had been doing wedding photography on the side for about five years and was getting more and more comfortable with my results. Little did I know that this assignment would be quite different from all the rest.

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His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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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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Saturday morning, and Jenny had woken up feeling very horny. Although this was nothing new in her world! She lay in bed enjoying the feel of the cool crisp sheets gently rubbing against her naked body, especially her sensitive nipples. She looked wistfully at the empty space beside her. Steve, her partner, had had to pop in to work early to sort out some problem, but with the promise to be back as soon as he could.

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Chapter One Katelyn McKinley looked in the mirror and was surprised that the woman looking back at her looked so fresh and pretty. Katelyn was tired most of the time these days, and taking care of herself was often last on her list. Raising her precocious six year old daughter, Carly and three year old twin sons, Colin and Connor, pretty much drained her of most of her energy. But tonight, the woman in the mirror looked attractive and glowing.

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The headline act was about to take the stage but I couldn't wait; I was desperate for a pee and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I was in serious danger of wetting myself. I made my excuses to my friends and hobbled across the crowded field towards the portaloos, thrusting my hands between my legs to prevent an accident.

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I heard him pull into the driveway and quickly jumped up to greet him at the door. I was in desperate need to feel him, not just inside of me, but on me as well. I had spent the better half of my afternoon preparing myself for him to come home. I decided I would stay in my attire of that day's errand running, just jeans and a black spaghetti strap tank top.

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Kerri poured herself another glass of wine. She tilted the bottle up, all the way up until the last red drop fell into her cup. She sighed and took another deep swig, feeling the acid of the cheap wine burning her throat slightly on the way down. She had been sitting in the Pisa airport for nearly 24 hours. The train system, in fact, all travel systems in Italy, was perpetually running late.

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I'm Betty. I'm twenty-seven years old, a college graduate, a paralegal by trade, and a would-be artist and recently divorced. That's about as much of my personal history that you need to know for the purposes of this story. As to what I look like, I'm five feet six; I have dirty blond hair and brown eyes. I have a decent figure. I'm not huge breasted or beautiful, although most do tell me I am attractive, at least they say that if they want to fuck me.

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You had to be living under a rock this past year not to know the economy is in the pooper. But even in these economic hard times, people continue to buy houses. So it was when the old two-story cottage beside me went up for sale in the last quarter of 2007. It sat empty for nearly a year until a middle-aged woman purchased the property.

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