Your erotic stories

Long day at work, she thought to herself, taking a swig of diet coke and placing it back into the cupholder. Road signs, stop lights, and pedestrians blurred past her as she drove home. She was already planning out her evening, starting by taking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and immediately making herself a very tall scotch—on the rocks, of course.

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I knew I was taking a huge risk. To change the game at this late date was to risk ruining a very adequate relationship. But, I knew I deserved more than adequate. I wanted so much more. I suppose a little background is in order. I am 43 years old, working in an office, I have a "boyfriend" that I see three to four times a week.

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"Welcome to our home Michael. Please, please have a seat." "Thank you Mrs. Stevens." Michael sat on the beautiful suede sofa next to his girlfriend Jenny. He had been dating Jenny for exactly a month and she now insisted he meet her parents for the first time. Jenny Stevens could be considered an "old fashioned" gal. At 22 she was still a virgin and still very much living at home with her parents. She was a very pretty gal and quite friendly and intelligent.

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The night was your friend. It was always important to remember that. The night was your friend because in it you were dominant. In it you had the control, the power and the mastery. The night was your friend because you made it the enemy of those who deserved to be your enemy. It was a mantra that The Wight repeated to herself regularly, and not least before starting a patrol.

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As the group walked down the path in the state park, Jared pulled me aside to look at a flower. As we were bent over, he whispered to me, "I want you to find a reason to get Frenchie alone for a few minutes. When you are out of sight of everyone, I want you to offer him a blowjob, right then and there. The group is going to be stopping by the stream to look for fossils, so you'll have time to catch up. When you get back to us, squeeze my hand twice if you accomplished your mission.

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Carolyn couldn't sleep. Restless in her queen-sized bed, she glanced at the digital alarm clock. The numbers cast a faint green illumination in the still blackness. 2:37 a.m. Damn. She needed her sleep -- and her energy. But it was proving difficult. Tomorrow was the day. Now only hours away. The exhilaration coursed through her body again and her nipples began to harden.

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I look at the dashboard clock as I pull up the driveway. It reads half past eight. She must be nervous as hell, at this point. I'm never late. It was the unexpectedly dense traffic that caused me to arrive half an hour after the appointed time but as I consider it, it's not so bad to keep her waiting in anticipation, once in a while. She's used to me being punctual and this must really freak her out.

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Ramsay closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and unzipped her jacket. Her mother would have never let her leave the apartment had she seen how her daughter was dressed. The snug, low-cut camisole didn't quite conceal her lacy black bra; the hem of her plaid skirt fell several inches above her knees. Her black patent stilettos were decidedly of the "fuck me" variety. Ramsay peered down at her ample cleavage, watched it rise and fall as she struggled to catch her breath.

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It had been a long night out with the girls and most of us were sober enough to call a cab and then Betsy starts talking about fantasies. "Men always have some fantasy they insist we try, am I right?" I nodded, as did Samantha, Alana and Jenna as Betsy continued to regale us with her latest pontification.

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The dictionary defines Valentine- a sweetheart chosen or complimented on Valentine's Day. I'm not sentimental or for that matter sensitive. At least, that is what I've often been told. You are so closed off! Unreachable! I disagree. I happen to have had a perfectly good reason for keeping my heart locked up. The problem, in my opinion, was with the people who never tried to slip by the barriers.

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