Your erotic stories

That day started like any other first day of preschool for Julie. She greeted the returning children as well as the newcomers. Parents milled around the room to see what new things Julie had set up for the children to do. As she was speaking to one concerned parent, she noticed a tall man standing in the doorway, with a large Stetson in his hand. Wrapped around his leg, was a small girl in a pretty green dress and saddle shoes. She seemed to be terrified at what she was seeing.

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His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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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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#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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One of my father's crudest friends had a saying that he reserved for men he thought were losers with the women. He would say, "That guy couldn't get laid in a whore house with a pocket full of hundred dollar bills." I never thought about that much; I figured I was doing alright with the ladies until I turned forty. Then it dawned on me, I had never had one that truly cared about me. Through my blue collar hard-working, long-hour days, I had a long string who abused my trust, used me and made me pay too much for the attention I got from them.

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Maria knocked loudly on her son's bedroom door. "Matthew? Wake up! You have to get up and get ready for Mass." Matthew's muffled voice came through the door. "I'm not going to Mass, Mom." Maria's eyes shot up. We'll just see about that, she thought. She wrapped her fingers around the knob, twisted, and swung open the door.

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DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the result of my imagination or are used within a fictitious context. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or deceased, places, or incidents is entirely coincidental.

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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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I stood in the crisp sunlight bursting through my window, my shades pulled back and inviting the morning inside. It was September; the first day of classes. My parents had helped me move in to my residence room a week ago, giving me time to get acquainted with all the people that would be on my floor. I had made a good number of friends, many of which I already had invited me to spend the next weekend on a drinking splurge.

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Saturday mornings must have something special in them, they seem so much better than all the rest, and this fine Saturday morning was no different. It was six in the morning and I was just finishing my last minute packing for the camping trip. My best friend from high school, Jake Ryan, had invited me on a camping trip with his family.

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