Your erotic stories

Carrie stared out at the ocean; the view from her one-bedroom villa was astounding. The ocean waves lapped at the sand and the beaches glittered in the sunlight. The scene before her was unlike any she'd seen anywhere else, but then again the thirty-three-year-old divorcee hadn't seen a lot from the window of her two story home. What amazed her more than anything was the fact she was even here.

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Suzanne Waters woke up just in time to see Kayla Lane exiting the motel room. Seeing the pretty 18-year-old dressed in a short black skirt and a tight fitting red tee-shirt affirmed Suzanne's notion that Kayla wasn't simply making a run to the vending machines, especially since Kayla had been in a pair of pajamas when Suzanne went to bed less than an hour ago. Suzanne jumped out of bed and grabbed the pair of jeans draped over the chair in the corner and quickly sliding them up her long, sexy, legs.

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There wasn't an adult in the land that didn't know what her family did. There wasn't a tabloid editor on Fleet Street that hadn't paid out hard cash for sex tapes containing her or her family. They were notorious; famous almost. Salacious details of the exploits became Internet folklore, the stuff of legend.

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Chapter I Helen spent three Friday evenings in a elegant little lounge on the east side of town. She wanted to pickup men, she was horny, she craved sex, and this seemed like the most likely place to find horny males. The slightly past middle aged widow was a good looking woman, spending a number of days at the gym, another good place to find males. She was successful the previous Friday, but the guy climaxed, rolled over, fell asleep, and Helen had to call a cab to get back to the bar to retrieve her car.

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After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door of Michelle's bedroom creaked open just enough for my short brunette girlfriend to stick most of her head out while one small hand wrapped around the door. Her shoulder-length medium-brown hair fell forward as her piercing eyes peered right at me as she mustered up the nerve to step out, her mouth obscured by the door and her hand. The only other things I could see in that moment were her toes as they protruded through the front of deep-blue shoes that I could tell were high heels.

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When my wife wants something, I can sometimes find it impossible to refuse her. We'd just got back from a weekend away where we'd met some friends and swapped partners. I'd always suspected that my wife, and mother of two children, was a whole lot hornier than most women. She was kneeling on the bed wearing nothing but a smile and casually stroking my cock to hardness when she asked me the question.

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Kendra Mercer untied the strings of her Missoni bikini and let them fall away from her shoulders, leaving the tiny triangles of fabric perfectly balanced on her firm, perky breasts. She let her body sink into the plush, cushioned lounge chair with an indulgent little sigh. Life was almost perfect. After several years of dating Luke Prescott, the son of one of the most important and politically influential families in New York, she was finally engaged. Kendra glanced down at the 5-carat platinum sparkler on her left hand, admiring the way the sunlight bounced off the diamond.

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Sometimes you just need to take a break. It has been four weeks since school has gone back and when I woke up this morning to a glorious sunrise over Port Stephens I decided it was time to have a sickie. I called in at about 7.30 and faxed my lesson plans at 8.30. By then the sun was blasting into my lounge room window and I knew that it would be another hot day. I have numerous beaches to choose from and with the wind coming from the west I decided to go to Hardwood Bay surf Beach.

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I'd flown through Germany a few times in the past but this time I'd decided to actually stopover and have a look around. My flight arrived in Frankfurt mid-afternoon on a Friday and as soon as I got in my hire car I found myself in gridlock traffic. I waded through it as the afternoon settled in and the rain clouds built up. By evening the city gave way to rolling green hills and I was on a motorway heading god knows where.

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Kay sat nervously in the boardroom as the panel of five interviewers filed in. Comprising of three ladies and two men, the group settled down around her on the oval table. Interviews, especially job interviews, were not a favourite of Kay's but she had no real reason to be nervous about this interview. She had the job in the bag. She looked her interviewers over, decoding them by what they wore and how they looked. Were they married? All but one, the skinny middle aged lady that wore glasses and a straight pleated skirt, had a wedding ring around her finger.

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