Your erotic stories

Mandy's weekend had not been good at all; from the early start to the heavy traffic to the slowest bellman in the entire country to the flaky actresses, the Georgia peach was anything but sweet by the time she arrived home. A more apt description would be an ornery lioness, ready to claw the next person who had the audacity to simply look at her wrong.

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Julie lay back into the car's seat, closing her eyes and relaxing into the ride home. The night out had been just what she needed after a long week; Jay had done well distracting her from thoughts of work. Their favorite restaurant had again come through with a great meal. They'd had just enough wine, lovely dessert, and stimulating conversation. But though the pleasant hours had repressed her ill mood, she now wanted a good night's sleep to escape the frustrations the work week had wrought. Climbing into bed, passing out and waking up to a lazy Saturday... That's what she needed.

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I had been teaching at the university for some 30 years, and I had never encountered such an intriguing vision as Soleil in all my days. She is a beauty, and an enigma. She was breathtakingly refreshing and very frustrating...beautiful, yet exasperating. I came to be rather obsessed with this 20 year old vixen from the first time I saw her in class, just something about her that caught my attention: she was half Thai, and half American.

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Tracy tested the silk scarves wrapped around her wrists and forearms. They were so expertly tied that you couldn't really see where they were knotted and it didn't feel at all restrictive until you tried to move. They were bound together in front of her and from there tied by a single large rope that extended to the end of the bed secured to the bed frame beneath. He legs were tied in a similar fashion. Her small 5' 0" frame lay comfortably face down on the largest bed Tracy had ever been on.

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One day, a classmate from my Asian Arts class stopped me just after class. He invited me to a party at his fraternity. I thought about it, and since I had no other invitation, I decided to go and have a little crazy fun while I was there. You know; you're only in college once. Frat parties have not been on my list of 'must do' social events since my third semester.

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As we pulled up to my house I enjoyed the fact that no bicycles were strewn on the driveway and no soccer goal stood on the lawn. Just my wife and I at home tonight, with no kids to interrupt and no reason to try and maintain any appearances. I had been looking forward to this for weeks. I got out of the car and turned to say goodnight to my neighbor from down the street.

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Fireworks burst in the night sky overhead and a menagerie of costumed men and women push past me on the crowded street. The inebriated celebrants shy away and let me pass when I glare them down with my practiced 'Do Not Fuck With Me' face. It takes quite a lot of practice to get it right when you're a five-foot-six woman. I scan the crowd and regain sight of you as you turn down a wide stairway and into an underground concourse. My lips can't help but curl up in a smile.

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I stood in the crisp sunlight bursting through my window, my shades pulled back and inviting the morning inside. It was September; the first day of classes. My parents had helped me move in to my residence room a week ago, giving me time to get acquainted with all the people that would be on my floor. I had made a good number of friends, many of which I already had invited me to spend the next weekend on a drinking splurge.

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June, her arms full of bags from the dealer's room, fumbled with the key card for the room before she managed to get it to slide the right way. She pushed the door open with her hip and managed to drop everything on the bed. It was not often she spent like this, but a convention vacation was a once a year thing for her and her girlfriend so she felt she could justify splurging just a little. The fact that most everything she had picked up were games, of both board and video persuasions, was also a mitigating factor.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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