Your erotic stories

Jessica was nervous, driving to the meeting. Her boss, Susan, had asked to meet at a hotel room at one of the best, most expensive hotels in London. This was a very odd request, but Jessica looked at it as an adventure. She would get to see a great hotel and possibly have a nice lunch. But this was so out of character for her normally too-serious boss.

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I went through my mid-life crisis recently, but instead of buying a Porsche or a 800 inch flat screen TV or fucking my twenty-two year old secretary (although it was tempting) Instead I decided to get back in shape. I was an athlete in high school and college, but in my thirties work, family and neglect have added a few more pounds than I was proud to admit.

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For some time Dwight had told me that when the time came, when I'd reached eighteen, and if I was still interested, he'd take me to the Candy Shop for the first time. I tried to tell him that he would be candy enough for me, but Dwight was an honorable man. That's the only reason why we ever needed to discuss the Candy Shop at all.

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Sunday Morning in early March. I joined the regulars for coffee after a disappointing Saturday night; I hate to be part of a closing crowd, and so I'd left the Paradise Bar with fifteen minutes to go before the bitter end. It's my age, I suppose. As fine as I know myself to be at thirty-five, I just don't feel like competing at singles bars any more. So there I was, listening to the morning-after banter about the night before: Who did, who didn't, who got lucky, who got away.

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Sun, sand, and silence. The beach was gloriously empty. Susan had been coming to this stretch of the Côte d'Ivoire for years. It was her retreat from the whirl of business life. The pavillon was humble by modern standards -- only a few rooms, with aging fitments -- but its rustic charm somehow enhanced rather than reduced its appeal. It was a family-run affair: well, it had been. The concierge had mentioned a change of ownership when she'd arrived yesterday afternoon.

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Several of the candidates for the secretary's job were more beautiful than she was. A more than a few had tried hard to make clear, with their hungry eyes and seductive smiles, that pleasing the boss would be something they'd do willingly, and well. But it was a secretary's "position" that he was most concerned with, and when this one, Audra, a twenty-four year old minx of vaguely Asian or Native American features, turned and walked away -- with firm, upraised buttocks and a curve to her back that pulled her asscheeks higher -- he knew that he had found a woman he would be able to fuck as nature intended, from behind her upthrust ass while she stood straight up.

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The halls vibrated with the music that flowed through them. Organ music swelled through the huge, drafty church and out the open doors. Passing people stopped and listened to the familiar tunes and the harmonic voices of the worshippers as they sang a 'thank you' to God for the birth of his son. After they had dragged themselves away from the church and the nostalgia that had surfaced, many of the people out on that cold Christmas night felt more in the spirit of the holiday. Spare change turned to a ten-dollar bill thrown into the hat of a homeless man.

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Day 1. My wife Pam is very pretty and has a nice figure. She is also quite timid and will avoid confrontation at almost any cost. I worried that would eventually get her into trouble, and while I was partly right about that, it turned out to be something totally unexpected that was the dominant factor. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well.

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My name is Nicholas Ichabous Crane Evanston. I'll spare you the long drawn out story of how I got that ridiculous name. The short version is that my dad saddled me with that long name so I would never forget the acronym, and always be NICE to people. Sometimes big stories have small beginnings, my story started at a CVS Pharmacy in a small town in North Carolina. I was in town to oversee a six month construction job and was having a pretty crappy day, so I dropped in for a sugar fix at the pharmacy near the work site.

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