Your erotic stories

The old fisherman sat out at the end of the dilapidated dock in his lopsided deck chair. Though it was getting on toward evening the sun was nice and warm. He was fishing really light; a homemade bamboo pole and an old reel he maybe got before he had whiskers. Duck-taped it to the pole and wound it with ten pound test. Fishing flounder didn't take much gear. He had a card of hooks, a tin with some weights and floats and some leader. Minnows in an old milk bottle and a plastic paint bucket for his catch. He had caught some.

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"What's this?!" Harlan said to himself. "Lorraine's the last person I expected to run into tonight. She's married! At least, she was the last time we talked. And, who's that cute, little redhead sitting next to her?" Harlan had never cruised the city's cougar dens to pick up women. Life was complicated enough with his job and the girls he was already dating.

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I had one year to go in my studies, at university, for my degree in public relations, arts, and media studies. I was starting to get a bit desperate for money. All my university bills were due. I was working part time in a coffee shop, but that had more or less stopped, since I had refused to have sex with the owner, even though he offered to pay me 200 dollars. I just did not fancy his big fat sweaty body on mine, and I knew he would want more and more if I agreed.

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It was one of those nights again, chilling here with him and watching T.V. We just got done laughing about how stupid high school was, but how we sort of already miss it. Best friend the whole way through. Him and I just always had the greatest times together, although most of it was over Xbox Live. Most of our laughs, inside jokes, and stories all were over Xbox. We'd just finished watching The Avengers. I love superheros, and the comics along with them. Okay, okay, yeah. I'm that girl.

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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We were in the middle of a meeting of the Auditorium staff when someone, Bill I think, came up with the idea to have one or more of us show up during an event and actually ask the people watching the event. We had been brain storming to come up with an idea to get people to tell us how to improve the service we were providing for people. One person thought we should change the name from Auditorium to Event Center, and advertise more of the type of events happening there.

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She is dancing with her friends in a club. The crowd is hyped up on the upbeat dance music, their bodies moving silhouettes, writhing rhythmically, bumping, grinding. It's pitch dark except for the intermittent movement of a great many colored strobe lights, the sparkle off the shiny disco ball dispersed across various surfaces in the room. She came here with a group of friends, guys and girls alike, celebrating the start of the weekend after a grueling workweek.

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The night had wound down, and Amy was on her way back home with one man in the front seat next to her - her husband - and another in the back - their friend Sam. Sam was drunk as a skunk - he'd been knocking back Jack and Cokes all night - and her husband was more than a bit buzzed as well, having had about a dozen beers, himself. Amy had been getting high all night on flattery and friskiness - her own and the others around her.

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"Don't be such a prude Thor! Nudity is perfectly natural and doesn't have to be about sex. In fact, they'd be more likely to think of our bodies in a sexual way if we wore G-strings or tight jeans." "Easy for you to say, you're not likely to be ogled as the fresh meat." "For God's sake stop with this nonsense already, Thor. They're NOT interested in your body for sex.

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Her wrists were tied together and secured with her own pantyhose to the headboard. He had left the room, with her kneeling as best she could, legs spread wide, giving him a perfect view of her now glistening pink slit, and more importantly the tight pink rosebud above. He said he wanted her ass. She thought they'd do some ass play for a little while and then he'd forget about it. But for the past two months he was persistent.

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