Your erotic stories

After Winnie's mom found her way back to Marcus' house, they went almost another five minutes before she was cumming again. He asked her to stay the entire weekend, but not before a quick trip home to pick up the essentials...and by essentials; she meant slutty clothes to be fucked in. Marcus even followed her home to make sure she came back with at least a different outfit for him to fuck her in each day and night, because it would be asinine to let her wear the same stockings three days in a row.

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"Babe the reservation is for 7pm, hurry up and get ready" she snapped. I had been working a lot lately, so much so that I always seemed tired and rarely payed enough attention to her. We had only been dating a handful of months. One day while working out I had spotted her on the tread mill. With every step her body seemed to move and shake in the most perfect ways.

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The summer of 1976 was especially hot. It was late August and I was studying in the library at college but found it impossible to concentrate. Every time I looked out of the window I could see carefree people in the quad, laughing, enjoying life, making the most of the wonderful, warm weather. I felt left behind, stuck in this mausoleum reading but not taking anything in. I was feeling restless and thoughts of sexual activities were assaulting my brain.

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Abbey was on her way to the job of her dreams. Growing up, she had always wanted to work at an investment firm like her father, who was very successful at what he did. She worked hard all of her life, determined to make it on her own. She went to the best schools and did all the right things. After a few notable internships, she was finally able to land an entry level position at a major investment firm in the big city.

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Saturday I peered into the rearview mirror and saw the familiar VW logo of Jenna's Jetta. Not that I was worried about her finding her way. We'd been driving this route to the beach for over 15 of her 20 years, so she certainly knew the route. It was pretty much a straight shot from Columbia to Charleston on I-26 and then a short jog over to Isle of Palms. Nothing to it.

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The morning rush had already been hectic, and squeezing through a throng of people equally hell bent on making the same train, to the same station, at the same time; Amy Lynn Steele felt glad to just have a seat as she plunked herself down on the hard plastic and watched the outskirts of Boston zip past. She had done it now for the past sixty five days, and while she was beginning to get used to the routine, she was also getting used to seeing the same people aboard the crowded train.

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The interview is scheduled in a few minutes as I step out of the elevator on the twenty third floor of the newest office building in the city. An ambitious and demanding executive is seeking an assistant, making me aware that I'm about to face a perfectionist, deadline driven workaholic. At precisely 10-00 am, a slim, well-groomed secretary ushers me into a plush and opulent office and closes the door behind her.

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Falling flat on my face was not the greatest way to start off the evening but there you have it. I was unpacking taped cardboard boxes in my newly rented apartment. Such a hassle. "How's it going?" Someone had stepped inside. I forgot I had left the front door open. He was a very big man, somewhere around 6'2 wearing all leather. Quite intimidating actually but he was smiling and seemed friendly.

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If you're lucky, every once in awhile you fall for someone. Sometimes its love, sometimes its lust but its usually some sort of mixture. I was more than lucky when I first met a woman named Dianne B. Dianne was working at the company I'd just joined. She was assigned to mentor me and we got along well. I was pleased to have made a new friend, one I continued to have lunch with every week.

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I step from the elevator onto the second floor of the city hotel. The corridor is empty, beige and clean cut like something lifted straight out of a seventies ideal home magazine. I adjust the black silk scarf as I walk along towards your room, trying to make it look casual. My brand new stilettos dig into the dense pile carpet and form a curious counterpoint to my low slung combat pants and white vest. I like the way the heels make me walk.

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