Your erotic stories

I was spending another Friday night behind the video store counter. My good for nothing co-worker Jason was passing the time text messaging his girlfriend, basically the only thing he did at work. I once asked him how many text messages that day while working and he told me around hundred as if it was nothing.

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I was walking through the streets of the little Central American town, headed to one of its many markets. Founded by the Spanish over 500 years ago, it's nestled in a ring of mostly-dormant volcanoes. You can still see the occasional plume of steam and smoke escaping the crest of one or the other of them.

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One evening, when I was taking a nap after a long day of productive work, the doorbell rang. I usually didn't open my door unless I was expecting someone, but I guess I was tired, since this time I did it without thinking. Behind the door were standing three women dressed in identical mannish-looking but femininely cut suits and ties. Two of them were wearing sunglasses even though it was evening and they were indoors.

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