Your erotic stories

"Turn here." I look at her with suspicion. There were three choices before me at this moment. Continue down the road and eventually make our way back to I-49's endless stretch. Turn right and creep our way through the sleeping country of Natchitoches parish.

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Reid and I had been seeing each other for many months. Our sex was awesome. I knew by his expressions, the feel of his reactions, I could read him implicitly and he me. Best of all, we trusted each other. He knew how deeply I loved having anal, and as his first experience that way, I was happy he enjoyed giving it as well.

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"It was your job to get him here on time. You do know, I hope, that the Best Man tradition started as being the bride's Best Man because he got the groom to the altar. You should never have taken him drinking after the rehearsal dinner last night." "I never expected to get so drunk that I'd lose him." "Pathetic..." the last comment came from the corner of the tiny bridal waiting room at the old church. Kristy, Carol's maid of honour, "I bet you aren't even hung over because you're still drunk."

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'I see you're in the paper again, Ms Brune.' From behind the concierge's desk Davy Markham held up a copy of the local community newspaper with a front page photograph of Josephine Brune ceremoniously planting a tree in front of the new West City Early Childhood Education Centre. 'I've got a couple of spare copies here if you'd like them.'

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The small sign hanging in the window of the entryway was innocuous enough. "Oriental Massage" it read simply. If one wasn't paying attention as they drove by, they'd likely miss it, and mistake it for a plain, white house with an odd location. It's not every day that you see a house in the middle of an otherwise commercial/industrial area. But I was observant, and had seen the sign driving to and from work many times. It always piqued my curiosity.

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You smile as I kissed my way from your bare shoulder, up your neck, to the base of your ear. I make sure you're really turned on with lots of kissing. I move on to sucking your full tits, stroking your pussy... As you start to moan in response, I begin sliding a finger slowly in and out of your cunt, letting your horny pussy lube up my finger.

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Hi, this is just a one-shot. I hope it's an entertaining scene/scenario, although it's probably totally unrealistic. But that's the beauty of fantasy... enjoy, and please rate and review, I love all the feedback I get, good or bad!

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There's a faded childhood scar on her jaw. It shows in sharper relief in the flickering candlelight. She walks to me, letting her cream chemise spill to the carpet. The beauty mark on the inside of her thigh winks at me as she crosses the room. I had stripped and laid down on our bed earlier, as soon as I saw the lit candles and massage oils on the nightstand.

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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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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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