Your erotic stories

He found himself pacing back and forth from the picture window to the door and back, several times, since he'd hung up from that phone call that informed him his gift for services rendered was on its way; and that it was coming by limo from the airport. He lived about an hour inland from the International Airport that was on the outskirts of the city he lived in.

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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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Cat squirmed on the hard wooden chair and watched the seconds tick by on the clock. 4:55 on Friday afternoon. Five minutes until doomsday. She worried at an almost non-existent hangnail, nibbling it smooth. Was she a glutton for punishment? Had a death wish, perhaps? She smiled ruefully to herself. Why, oh why, was it so hard to get kicked out of school?

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Mr Valens reached towards the numbers on the alarm panel inside the front door of his modern, two storey home. The red light was not flashing. He paused and cast his eyes around without moving, noting the gleaming kitchen bench, the bleak smell of domestic cleaner. Then he remembered. Today was Wednesday - Sharni Peller's cleaning day.

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She had gotten drunk, very, very drunk. She had no clue how she'd gotten home. She sat up only to flinch as she opened her eyes. Ouch! She saw two pills and a glass of water by the bed, along with a note. She reached for the pills and water, hoping they would help kill the pain from one hell of a hangover. Damn it, what had happened last night? As she drank the water, shadowy memories of the night before crept into her mind.

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I'm so done with this school, with these ridiculous uniforms and my jackass classmates trying to look up my skirt and down my shirt. (Who picked these clothes? I mean the skirt is halfway up the thighs for god's sake. And these shirts must have been designed for girls who, well, didn't develop as early and as, uh, fully as me - which, trust me, is not all it's cracked up to be, big tits are huge pain even in clothes that weren't poorly designed for someone a lot _smaller_.

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The smell of autumn was in the air, as the gentle breeze kissed my cheeks. Strolling through the farmer's market on an early Saturday morning, the sun was just starting to emerge. The rays of light dancing around me, I couldn't think of a better place I'd rather be.

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I'm on my knee's facing the head of the bed, my hand's are cuffed to the headboard. My body naked, thigh's spread so that all that I submit to you is open to your possession. I can't see you, but I can feel your eyes moving over every inch of my exposed body. I can feel my cunt moistening with anticipation of your touch; I'm finding it hard to keep still for your inspection.

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She was to meet him at the city park on the east side of town, at 4:30. When he told her to be ready for anything, she just laughed. He was always saying crazy things to make her laugh; she never expected that this time he was deadly serious. She was to be dressed in his favourite outfit, the loose skirt and shirt he liked her to wear for his convenience.

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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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