Your erotic stories

Not even fourteen hours into the weekend and Drew knew it was a mistake to come to Vegas. He didn't even gamble, really, for Christ's sakes, and it wasn't like he had the extra padding in his checking account these days. The whole place felt like he could look but not touch. Swarovski, Tiffany, Cartier and the rest of the stores that only foreigners seemed to shop in, the High Roller tables cordoned off with velvet ropes, the cocktail waitresses with too high hemlines and too low necklines.

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Jodie had been recommended to a special clinic by one of her friends when they had shared their sexual problems over a few bottles of wine. She had been a bit reluctant and was nearly put off completely by the high fees, but Abbey had persuaded her that it would be worth every penny if she went with a positive attitude.

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It's early evening, about 7:00. Maybe 7:30. I've be at a 3D shoot all afternoon. I didn't win but I scored very high and did come home with some of the major prizes. The shoot was actually over about 4:00 but I stopped in at my parents on the way home. I dropped the kids off there this morning on my way to the shoot and they have been having a blast all day, what with the horses and all. Dad asked if they could stay the night, possibly the weekend.

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I was standing in the small room, in front of a curtained window. Paul's hot breath on the back of my neck was doing little to dispel the tension that was tying me in knots, even though that's exactly what we were here for. The room was pretty dreary really; just this curtained window and a padded massage table behind us against the wall. Tired paint on the walls, scruffed tiled floor and ceiling, as if men before us had been walking the ceiling and dragged across the floor, which, for all I knew, was exactly what had caused the scruffing.

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I started a new job a few weeks ago and I hated it. Being the new girl is often awkward and it takes awhile to get used to the new people and new procedures. I did happen to notice that everyone I worked with was very attractive, which made it a little easier to ease into this new position. Although my working hours were supposed to be 8 - 4, on a few occasions I have been asked to work overtime.

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My wife Susan and I have been married for eight glorious years. We are both thirty years old now. I met Susan in College at Boston University during my Junior year. We were both studying to be attorneys and took a few of the same classes together. The first time I saw Sue I was floored with her beauty and sex appeal. She was the smartest woman in class and quite frankly the most intelligent person I've ever me.

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There were four of them who entered the store close to closing time, all muscled punks decked out in black leather. I owned the small convenience store but found myself behind the counter this evening because my regular night clerk called in sick. The hunkiest of the four came up to the counter and puckered his lips and tossed me an air kiss. He asked me where Jake, my regular evening clerk, was.

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"Please. Please...don't stop," I begged, hot and desperate. Right now, I thought as my mind raced, I'd give anything for the tongue that was buried deep in my pussy to send me over the edge. It was beyond skilled, having brought many girls before me to orgasm after orgasm with its quick flicks and expert movements. I moved my arms in an attempt to grab a fistful of hair, to pull that tongue further into me, only to remember that my wrists were bound to the wrought-iron bedposts above my head.

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We have never been the type of people to be worried about showing our bodies. We have always walked about the house naked, even when the kids were still at home it was just as natural for them as it was for us. Dave and I have always made love with the lights on, in just about every room in the house and, yes, of course we have fucked outdoors as well! I just do not understand how some people can spend a lifetime making love in the dark.

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I have just taken my assigned right aisle seat in first class and opened the latest issue of "Newsweek" and begun to read a story about Terrorism in Iraq and suddenly - you walk through the entrance to the seating section of the Boeing 747. There is a certain air about you as you enter; every male in the front passenger area is staring at you.

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