Your erotic stories

"And a ten-inch cock." "You're shitting us now," Oliver said. "Yes, I'm shitting you," Porter answered. "But, really, I would want him to have a nice cock on him." "Well, high on my list is that he has to be willing to take out the trash without being asked to," Adrian interjected.

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A week before Christmas, I ducked into the fifth floor men's room. It served as temporary reprieve. The first among twenty or thirty things I could invent to occupy myself while avoiding the remainder of the company Holiday party two floors below. One other occupant was in the room. He barely registered on my eggnog-addled brain. Most years I managed to escape the compulsory merrymaking by being unavoidably detained somewhere else on company business. This year I was unavoidably detained in Los Angeles.

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I've always been a bit of a tomboy. Who am I kidding? I am a down-and-dirty, in-your-face tomboy trapped in a little girl's body. Now before you guys get all pervy on me, when I say 'little girl' I mean my body has the physical attributes of a 13 year old girl but I'm actually 21 years old (nearly 22-please send birthday greetings and cash if you have extra).

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I'd been having this dream. I'm not even sure what it was about, but it had something to do with warm and wet. Then, I woke up with my cock in her sweet, soft mouth. I looked down, and saw this shiny mass of bed-tousled auburn hair and deep blue-green eyes, staring straight into mine. Full, soft lips were wrapped around my dick. I haven't yet figured out how someone can give you a blowjob, and smile at the same, but Danielle can do it. She lifted her head, and there was an audible "pop" when I came out of her mouth.

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When I was 19-20, I worked as a production assistant for a TV show which I won't name. It was not a huge deal. It was steadily successful in a small way, and is still on today. It was a fun job. Most PA jobs are not. You run shitty errands and never get appreciated. Usually the boss treats you like shit. This job was different. People were friendly.

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Mike lowered his binoculars and pushed the throttle forward to the maximum. It would be an exaggeration to say his battered cabin cruiser surged ahead. A large cloud of black smoke and a backfire burst from the exhaust, the ancient hull vibrated, slowly the revs mounted and the inappropriately named "Queen of the Waves" lurched and protested as the speed built up to 15 knots.

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It's Valentine's night. I should be out with some hot guy, some hot guy that'll take me out to that cozy little Italian joint I like and buy us an overpriced bottle of really good Cabernet Sauvignon so I can get completely blitzed, lose my inhibitions and let him take me home and screw me every which possible way, I was thinking.

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It had been a very bad winter. It had been freezing down in the village, and there was no fruit or fresh vegetables of any kind left. All they had was salted meats and tubers, a state of affairs that left Samantha, not accustomed to not getting her own way, very frustrated. The manor house, up on its lonesome hill, was a perpetual temptation to the people in the town below.

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"So, you are here to audition for my movies," Mr. S said to me as I entered the living room to the hotel suite. He was the director of Ruby Bulb films, and I'd been waiting for weeks to see him, as he only gave two auditions a day. I could tell which one was the big director immediately when I came into the room, as he was a Big Daddy Warbucks type, all height and big bones and muscles, and no hair.

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*Author's Note: Any and all person's engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. ***** "Daddy, will you come read me a story?" Tina asked as she peered into the living room. "What?" Burt looked up from the news. "Will you come..." his eighteen year old daughter repeated. "Tina, for God's sake, you're eighteen years old; aren't you a little too old for such foolishness?" Burt asked.

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