Your erotic stories

Sarah stood in the shade of the thatch-roofed picnic shelter, sipping on a diet coke as she spitefully contemplated how her weekend had been completely ruined. After two continuous weeks of stressful work, she had been relishing this much needed weekend to herself. That was until Friday night, when a dreaded phone call from her cheerily coercive mother had ended all her hope of relaxation.

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"I hate her," Joe muttered as he watched Natalie bounce through the crowded college courtyard. Two years, they had been together. Two years of wasted emotion, compromises, and plans. Hell, they hadn't really started making love until these last few months, and that's why he had thought she was the one. "'Let's save ourselves until we're sure,'" he grumbled.

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"What was your most interesting photo shoot, Natasha?" Alex asked. His digital SLR snapped in the silence of the hotel room. I held my pose, wondering how honest I should be. "Well, I did a shoot last year wearing nothing but body paint," I offered, the over-stuffed comforter pressed softly between my legs.

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"So I leaned over, farted and Silly String flew out my ass," Kayla said, snapping me back to reality. I pulled my attention from staring her feet and looked directly at her. I didn't realize how obvious I'd been. "Good to see you're back," she laughed. "So are you going to listen or just ogle my feet?"

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The next day Salima and I were at lunch with Greg Samuels and Kate Thompson from finance discussing derivatives, equities and many other 'exciting' things. Now as important as this meeting was to my future progression within the company I honestly wasn't up to it in any way, shape or form. Salima had kept me up both in a mental and erectile state of frenzy until half 4 that very morning and I felt more like a walking corpse than a high flying corporate executive.

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"It's a girl thing," I said with a smile to the shoe salesman as I looked down at the shoes he had slipped on my feet. Spike heels, narrow straps, absolute torture but worth the pain. "Oh believe me, I completely understand," he said with a sheepish grin. I looked down at the man kneeling patiently at my feet while I admired the shoes. He was waiting for me to decide if I liked them or not, looking up at me with those big brown puppydog eyes, ready to run fetch another pair if I just said the word.

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Linda and I met in college and in my algebra class. She was 21 years old, only 17 days younger than me. She was 5'5" and quite fit. I helped her a few times with her algebra homework. Since then we became good friends and we hung out every now and then. Last Friday she came over to my house for a mellow movie night. She is usually a punctual girl, but she came half hour late and looked tired.

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Geoff Larsen, (of course that isn't his real name), is the President of Marketing. His office is located four doors down the hall from my own and, being President, his office is a corner unit making it almost twice the size of my own with a fully equipped bath complete with a whirlpool, a corner shower and a laundry chute that heads straight to the basement of the facilities where the gym is located.

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It was a stormy night in Atlanta. My bones rattled with chills as I struggled through sheets of rain that slapped against my body. My thin windbreaker failed it's only job, as I felt the dampness soak into my clothes which sucked onto my skin. It was a terrible night, but this struggle of the elements was worth it. For tonight, I would meet my angel, and nothing would warm my drenched body more than her embrace.

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