Your erotic stories

I heard the front door open and close, and my wife came barreling into the living room. I barely had time to take in her petite frame, muscular thighs, and small breasts before she grabbed me by the arm, pulled me up from the couch, and dragged me toward the bedroom. She was dripping with sweat — why on earth would a person go for a run in the middle of the day in August? — and as we passed through the bedroom door she said, "I need you to fuck me right now."

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I first saw her as she walked from her car towards the supermarket. She was hard to miss, especially in broad daylight. I was parked two rows away and she walked into the Harris Teeter store about twenty steps ahead of me, her tight ass swaying back and forth in her tiny, designer-label jean miniskirt.

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Ramsay closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and unzipped her jacket. Her mother would have never let her leave the apartment had she seen how her daughter was dressed. The snug, low-cut camisole didn't quite conceal her lacy black bra; the hem of her plaid skirt fell several inches above her knees. Her black patent stilettos were decidedly of the "fuck me" variety. Ramsay peered down at her ample cleavage, watched it rise and fall as she struggled to catch her breath.

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She stands in front of the apartment. Naked thighs cold from the wind swirling around the edges of the long coat she wears. She pulls the coat closer around her and shudders. He heart is racing as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Her nipples harden immediately. She knocks, once, then twice before she takes a small step back.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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Nine o'clock on a Tuesday and I'm in bed reading. I feel you in the doorway before I see you. I look up to say hello and the words die in my mouth as our eyes meet. Intimidating is a word most people would use to describe my half of our couple. You're the affable one that everybody loves. You're the perfect boyfriend.

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We were lying on the bed, exhausted, covered from head to toe in sweat, my warmth oozing from you as we kissed. My tongue explored your lips just as my hands explored your naked flesh, your chest rising heavily up and down from the exertion moments before. But it was just the beginning. "We need a shower," you said, your voice thick and your smile wide.

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Jessica turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, steam billowing out from the open door. She grabbed a soft cotton towel and wrapped it around her flushed damp body. She had rushed home from work and was now pleased that she had made the effort. There was more than enough time to get ready before Charlie came home. She planned to have her way with him and if he wasn't too tired she would sit on his face so he could use his expert tongue to make her scream. Simple and hot - just how she liked it.

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The scent of cooked turkey still lingered in kitchens across America and the shops and stores were already decorated for Christmas; the coffee shop where Carol sat being no exception. Disconsolately sipping her latte, she didn't feel in a very celebratory mood. The promise of employment that had motivated her to leave home and move to the city hadn't materialized and now she was homesick, low on funds and still job hunting.

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I was at university at the time, and like all students I was finding money very hard to come by, not having rich parents, and not getting along with my mother. She had wanted me to marry this nice lad, but he wasn't for me. I was doing media studies, public relations, and arts. I thought I had the looks to get on in those fields. I had done some modelling when I was a bit younger, so I thought I might be able to get into that.

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