Your erotic stories

Jade sat at the dining room table and re-read her paper for the tenth time. She started out telling herself that she would finish up some notes on one endless section of her dissertation, just to make sure that it was cohesive. That was four hours ago. At this point, she was exhausted and done with the whole damn thing.

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"Baby Girl you're fine," he said confidently as he danced beside me with my sexy wife. I was used to her getting hit on, especially by black men. She had a beautiful round ass and a trim waist that drew admiring looks wherever we went and it attracted black men to her like a moth to a flame. But I wasn't used to the man being so blatantly aggressive with her when I was within ear shot and my blood began to boil.

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There were four of them who entered the store close to closing time, all muscled punks decked out in black leather. I owned the small convenience store but found myself behind the counter this evening because my regular night clerk called in sick. The hunkiest of the four came up to the counter and puckered his lips and tossed me an air kiss. He asked me where Jake, my regular evening clerk, was.

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"Tom, I'm happy you're home from college for the summer, but we just can't give you money anymore like we used to. We need every dollar we have, and if you have the chance to earn some on your own, even if it's just a day job, you have to take it." "Mom, this isn't a job. This is...labor." "It's $100, and all you have to do is spend a few hours boxing up some stuff and taking out trash.

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Shauna was my first experience with another girl. She and I were roommates in our freshman year at college, crammed into a two-bed, two-desk, one-closet dormitory room on the third floor of a six floor dorm. We didn't pick each other; we were assigned our rooms by the college's computer. In retrospect, that computer did a wonderful job.

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I tore off one of the phone number slips from the bulletin board post and figured I would at least give it a try. Just the kind of job I was looking for, high pay (for a college kid at least), and didn't sound like a lot of work. I had never been an artist's model, or even really knew what that entailed. I was an engineering student.

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Laura and I had arrived in Jamaica only four hours before. We hadn’t been ballsy enough to bring our own pot and decided that we needed to look for some. As everyone knows, the island is swimming in the stuff and we didn’t think there would be any problem.

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My girlfriend, Trinh, and I have been together for a little over two years now. We met and started dating during our sophomore year in college; we took each other's virginity a few months into the relationship. While the logistics of having sex with Trinh hasn't always been easy -- we don't live together and each of us has roommates -- the sex itself has usually been satisfying, at least I think so, and Trinh seems to think so, too, from what I can tell.

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Since my husband passed away a few years ago I haven't been in a significant relationship. It didn't find any joy in going through the process of finding a man, figuring out if I liked him, and if he liked me, and then determining what we both wanted from each other. My marriage with my husband had been fantastic. We got along well and raised two wonderful children. We had a great, although not wild, sex life. We were both very passionate, but not compulsive.

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The evening sky was painted vivid colors of crimson, yellow, purple and azure. The sun was just passing over the horizon completely. I was anxious, alright, I was downright scared. What had I agreed to? What was it that made me want to be on the "list" for eight and a half months? As I walked down the crowded avenue, I wondered if anyone could tell what I was about to do.

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