Your erotic stories

((I usually detest the idea of using toys in a movie or a story because it generally means that the writer has just run out of ideas and the toys are used to take up space, which is almost always the case in commercial porn. The toys also usually sever the story line because they put space between the participants and eliminate flesh-to-flesh contact. However, in this particular story with a "Mother-teaches-daughter" theme, I felt that the use of toys was appropriate to the plot.

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"Student ID?" I fumbled around my jeans for my student ID. The Indian security guard at the gate nodded as I found it and flashed it at him. "Long night at the library?" he asked casually, leaning backwards in his chair as his eyes flicked down and up again.

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Conner's rough wind worn lips pressed to her soft ones once more and she was glad for it. Somewhere inside her head a voice cried out for her to deny this monster and his desires and hers. You can't give yourself to a pirate. You can't become a pirate yourself. This has gone too far stop it while you can. The voice was small and weak and wrong. She had less of a problem letting herself be taken by a pirate then she would have giving herself over to the dirty old men in her Father's social circle.

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These stories will follow the views and perspectives of individual characters, sometimes switching between them. I apologize for any confusion this may cause and I hope to clearly distinguish between each character when I make the transitions.

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Jenna realized when Kat's boyfriend drove off she was alone with her friend, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable for a brief moment. At almost five foot four, Jenna was average height, blonde and buxom. Despite not being a California native, many people assumed she was a stereotypical surfer girl when they met her.

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Something very traumatic happened to me recently - something that could have killed me. Since then, I have been reliving all of the major events in my life. Fortunately, I have plenty of college friends and family to discuss things with. However, there is one event I must keep secret and anonymous. During my senior year in high school, I was a determined, albeit slow, member of my school's track & field team.

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"Hi. I came to see you before I go." Fiona was the daughter of friends. We had watched her grow up and go out on her own, been to her twenty-first, seen her get her first job and become an attractive young woman. She stood on my front doorstep on a hot summer's day and she looked good enough to eat. My wife was away for a couple of weeks in Perth, and I was batching.

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These stories will follow the views and perspectives of individual characters, sometimes switching between them. I apologize for any confusion this may cause and I hope to clearly distinguish between each character when I make the transitions.

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It felt so very good to be really clean, squeaky clean as her Mom used to say when she was a little girl. Louise could have stayed in the hot biting shower for hours and let the wonderful water stream over her body. It had been more than a week since she had last showered and had the opportunity to wash her short brown hair. It was a wonderful public service that the church shelter offered to the homeless. She wished that she came in to take advantage of it every day as it made her feel so much better about herself.

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I lurched into my dorm room and sat heavily on my bed. Natalie looked up from her studying, and raised an eyebrow. We had only been in school for three weeks, but living together 24/7 we had already bonded as friends. She knew I was upset. "You're back early, Emma" Natalie commented. "It's not even midnight. Did Jimmy get drunk?"

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