Your erotic stories

Wear trousers, get fucked. A simple equation, but it worked for Emily. Jeans were a possible, as long as they were tight-fitting. Her baggy cords were a probably not, unless he hadn't seen her for a while. But the black trousers were a near-certainty. There was nothing amazingly 'fuck me' about them, they were just plain black, close-fitting polyester trousers, but Emily knew how much they turned Jamie on. If she wore them, and he saw her wearing them, he simply couldn't keep his hands off her.

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Rebecca watched the last of the trick-or-treaters head down the street and checked the clock. With the official hours over, she turned out the porch light and put down the bowl, resisting the urge to indulge with one of the few remaining pieces of candy. She took off her witch hat and shook out a wealth of dark hair, trying not to think about the few strands of gray that she refused to dye — yet.

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The chain link fence that had served as the border between his and Jean's yard seemed a lot shorter than it used to. Since he had been 12 he had taken care of her children, well a lot of the neighborhood kids after school till their parent got home. And maybe Jean knew of the affect which she had on him. Well granted not to the degree of perversion. For example she was probably was not aware how he had arranged the growth of vegetation on the fence so that a line of sight was clear from his window to her garden.

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My parents started teaching my brothers and me at a very young age the importance of helping others, though they stressed that helping wasn't necessarily limited to the less fortunate or the poor or the needy. Basically what they taught was that if someone was lacking an ability or resource that you possessed, the right thing to do was to offer it to them. We were also taught to do this out of the goodness of our hearts rather than for personal gain, but we learned that the people we were helping usually did not want to be considered charity cases, so they'd often overcompensate by paying us extremely well for our help.

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It was a Thursday, and my classes had been cancelled because of all the snow. He thought that he would get out of work, so we had planned to lay in bed and watch movies all day, but when he called his boss early that morning he had found out that he was still required to go in, and he had been griping about it all day. He grumbled through his morning routine, and he had even been sending me text messages to remind me what a bitch I was for getting to lay in bed all day without him.

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I slept in. So sue me. I had the day off so I was entitled. I had exactly nothing planned for the day and that was what I was going to do. Oh, yeah, I suppose you're wondering who I am. My name is, believe it or not, Glowing Beam of Amber Moonlight. I go by the name of Amber, for reasons that should be self-evident. There should be a law against parents getting naming rights when they choose names like that. I've found Amber to be a much more respectable name.

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"I cannot stand Cynthia and her more virginal than you attitude," announced Amelia, looking over at where the offender was currently flirting with a couple of boys. "I know what you mean," grumbled Marie. "The way she acts we're all sluts because we're not virgins. Just because we're not virgins doesn't mean we're free and easy. Or that we had any choice in the matter, anyway."

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