Your erotic stories

Denise lived next door to my family as I grew up in a small city in Australia. She was married to a guy who never grew up, drank a lot and treated her poorly. Their home was littered with his empty beer bottles and her empty dreams. My Dad would often say she was a pretty woman who deserved a whole lot better in life. Denise was originally a country girl and in Australia that meant there was a certain something about her.

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The lecture was boring. Even Natalie was bored, and she was delivering it. She looked at the ten faces in front of her, sagging with indifference and incomprehension. Is this what her life had come to? Trying to teach maths to engineering students at a provincial university. What had happened to the bright ambitious graduate she had once been? Here she was, almost 40, still in the same job she had had for the last 17 years, still single, unloved, unlovely, frustrated and bored to death. Is this all that life had to offer her?

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#2- Milk Maid Adam had been called to the South Pole with less than a day's notice. "It's a once in a lifetime chance," he'd said sadly, "If I don't do it now it'll never happen." It was likely a good thing there wasn't much time to talk about it -- to debate the pros and cons. Still, Violet found herself standing at the airport in a state of shock -- a one-month-old baby on her hip and the love her life en route to spend six months at the coldest place on Earth in a location where even email was barely available, let alone the internet.

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My name is Dylan, and I'm a rapist...or at least I thought I was. Lying there in the dark, pretending to be asleep and listening for the tell-tale crackle of a police walkie-talkie from outside my apartment door, I wondered if Samantha was still in her bedroom. Wondered if she'd called the cops to tell them her roommate had raped her, or if she'd fled the apartment and was banging on our neighbors' doors, desperately trying to find someone who'd help her.

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Laura swung her hips back and forth as the music resonated in the small office. She spun around on her three inch black leather heels like a seasoned stripper, reaching for the back of a chair to balance herself as she bent over thrusting her gorgeous slim, tight ass upwards and towards him. The top buttons of her blouse were undone and the black lace of her bra was visible between the white silk fabric of the blouse as she continued her sexy striptease.

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Well, today is the big day! Stacy thinks the moment she wakes up. She blinks her baby blues open to see the streaks of sunlight across her room. The walls are bare and all of her stuff is piled around the room in cardboard moving boxes. Today, Stacy moves out of her parent's house to begin college. She stretches and hops out of bed. The smell of her mother's breakfast is prominent throughout the house. Stacy heads downstairs.

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INTRODUCTION The summer I was sent to Mountain Farm, I was in my late teens (19). A had for a couple of years already been soiling the sheets with my nightly juices almost every night and my attention to schoolwork and helping out at home had become more and more distracted by my growing and constantly aching cock and balls. The actual trigger was when my mother surprised me twice one afternoon when I was happily stroking my member in the family bathroom but had forgotten to lock the door.

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#1 – Margaret Margaret had been worried about Ricky ever since the accident. Carrie, Margaret's daughter, had been put in the hospital with a coma. Margaret wasn't as worried about Carrie. Something in her soul told her that her daughter would emerge from this long sleep.

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As might be expected, dinner that evening at the DeVries household was somewhat awkward. Christopher picked hesitantly at his pasta, not trusting his stomach. He just couldn't settle down. His heart would palpitate for twenty minutes at a stretch, and just as he'd start to relax he'd think of the delights he might earn in the next few months, and the whole process began again. He was getting exhausted just sitting.

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Paul had a little trouble finding Kaylee's apartment building and he was almost twenty minutes late by the time he finally reached her door. It was bad enough being flustered by having taken a wrong turn while following the directions he had been given but, as he pressed the doorbell, he discovered he was distinctly nervous indeed. Kaylee's website specified several massage specialties but, although the text was suitably noncommittal and vague, it was clear that they were all of the more erotic variety.

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