Your erotic stories

"Damn, maybe this wasn't such a good idea." I said it out loud, standing by myself in the middle of my new apartment's kitchen. Actually, it wasn't so new, and it wasn't really mine, but whatever. I had my doubts in any case. It seemed like a cool idea when my mother's friend offered it: A nice luxury apartment off campus, mine for a quarter while she was away on sabbatical. And it was great in many ways - lots of room, a great pool and workout center, and all the privacy I wanted.

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Sarah wiped her forehead. Almost done, she thought. Just these three more outfits to be marked and logged into the store's computer and she would be finished. And that wasn't good. She was glad to be at the end of these last three weeks, working from whenever she started until whenever she quit, but at the same time she was worried.

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"Thanks for coming in, Jenny. We'll be back in touch with you." And with those words, I figured that was all I'd ever hear about the summer job I'd just interviewed for. I'd spent half the morning getting ready to meet the manager of Dustee's, the little clothing boutique at the mall where I'd put in my application. And in about five minutes, the interview was over!

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It's Friday morning - "Casual Friday" at the office. I'm walking along with a friend when I see her coming toward me in the hall. As usual, I'm curious to see how she will react to me, and as we approach one another, I can tell this will include the usual awkwardness. I'm slightly behind Gina, my friend, who speaks first, a pleasant, "Hi, Deborah!" that draws a smile and a "Hi" in return. But then she notices me, and the reaction is clear.

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Chapter 2: Hayley I made a really stupid bet with a friend a few months ago. I quickly came to regret it, but at the time I had no idea what far reaching consequences it would have for me, and for my mother. My name's Hayley, I'm 18 and in my first year at university. I share a flat near the campus with two other girls. Simone's a huge black chick who throws the discus for the British junior team.

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It was at the village fete that I saw her. I had just emerged from the main tent, after judging the sponge cake competition -- a solemn duty for the parish vicar's wife -- and there she was, 20 yards away from me, paying for a go at the coconut shie. She looked even slimmer than I remembered her as a teenager. I thought at first that her short, spiky hair had turned prematurely grey;

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I enjoy working late. I am a transcriptionist, and can get more done when the hub-bub of a packed law office has quieted. One thing though, this old office building is about as tightly insulated as a bridge, and creaks as badly as my forty-mumble year old knees. I find myself getting up from my desk at least once an hour to see if somehow an earthquake hasn't hit, as my geology professor called it, the Laurentian Plateau.

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Each year they swept in, families of various sizes and ages from across the world. They came from the snow swept regions down to the tropics. Families came every year, looking for fun in the sun and to escape the cold winter season. I lived and worked in Aruba and enjoyed life here. The people of the island were tolerant and open minded.

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