Your erotic stories

"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back." With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.

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Another long overnight shift, Stacey thought. She hated to say the word, lest she jinx herself. Quiet. The ER was dead. Only two patients out of 35 beds. And being Triage Nurse, she hadn't had any activity for 4 hours. Sigh. Even the difficult crossword puzzle was done. Having recently gotten over the flu and a breakup with her ex, she was still a little weak and out of it, only just recently having her appetite return. Only a half hour left of her shift and she could go home. She started to dose off at her desk....

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It was winter, about 9PM, and I was in my living room watching football and eating ice cream when I heard the telltale sound of keys jingling and footsteps in the hall. I leaped to my feet as my heart rate spiked -- my sexy neighbor was home! I ran to my door to shove my eye into the peep hole.

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The flight had been a long one and he was exhausted. The trip had gone well, better than he had hoped, but a trip was never like being at home. He yearned for the feel of his own shower, his own bed, and his own surroundings. The plane began its descent and he felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as the pilot banked first left, then right, and finally leveled out for the final approach. As the wheels touched down, he instinctively reached for his cell phone and turned it on.

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The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn't understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today. The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the mid seventies through the mid eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn't fully realize until I had left the City of the Angels the first time I lived there.

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This is a continuation of Ella's story. She is a real person (as is Gabrialla) and chapter 2 moves from fact to her fantasies. The story focuses on a dominant interracial lesbian theme. If this is not to your taste, thank you for stopping by but please pass on this and move onto a different story.

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The morning mist covered the grass and flowers; it was a beautiful May morning in Georgia. Birds were chirping and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees that lined the long driveway that led to a spacious mansion. It was difficult for Nora to believe that she was only sixty miles out side of Atlanta;

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I'm writing this as I watch a copy of a video we made last Saturday afternoon. I should probably erase it, but I just can't seem to do it. We had a softball game, and afterwards I invited the guys over for a swim. Some of the guys just took a quick dip and left, but Andre, Carlo and Tony are single, with a reputation as the party animals on our team, and they stuck around for the rest of the afternoon.

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Penny Parker was drinking her father's rum and getting a little high. Her parents would be gone for two weeks and trusted her to watch the house. Penny was diddling her wet pussy as she looked at her father's dirty books that he kept hidden under the bed. The eighteen year old girl was still a virgin but was far from pure. She loved to tease the boys at school and watch their dicks get hard but never pleased them.

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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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