Your erotic stories

I travel frequently on business. Recently, I had to travel to another city for a few nights. I reserved a room at a well-known, mid-level hotel. On my last night at the hotel, I had to complete a report and get it emailed out by morning. Unfortunately, it was a Thursday night and a football game was on TV that night.

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A number of years ago, I placed an ad in the local paper as a free-lance writer offering to write heirloom biographies for a reasonable fee. The idea came to mind after my mother passed away, and I realized how little I really knew of her life. I simply knew her as 'Mom,' and my kids only knew what I passed along to them. My intent was to help families capture the essence of their lives to share with the generations to follow.

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Misty strode confidently into the student center at her university that spring afternoon. She had just gotten out of her least favorite class, and had in her hands the test from last week. The surprising "97%" was written on the top in a red pen. Now she could just check her mail, and sit down and read for a few hours until dinnertime with her friends.

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Mrs Potter has wild sexual fantasies in Church and then confesses her sins Mrs Potter had a problem with alcohol. Ever since she was about 20 whenever she touched alcohol she would get overwhelming sexual urges that made her very very promiscuous and would do absolutely anything that would result in her having an orgasm.

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"Write me a story," my lover says, her eyes glinting with deep, sensual desires. I kiss her, savoring the warmth and wetness of her mouth, as I say, "What shall I write, my love?" She smiles at me wickedly, her hands fondling my growing erection. "Something – naughty," she replies, her voice low and soft, caressing me like velvet. "Something – forbidden..."

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She walked out of the bathroom to the middle of the empty room. It was a bedroom of sorts, but completely devoid of furniture. The carpet on the floor was thick and plush and a dark rich chocolate brown. The paleness of her skin contrasted nicely with the dark carpet. Almost the reverse silhouette.

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You couldn't forget Crystal. Beautiful, tall, with long black hair, dark green eyes and a full mouth that was usually laughing at something or someone, and always painted with a startling red lipstick. Her full tits clamoured for your attention, invariably only just contained by the fabric of some immaculate designer outfit, worn with high black boots with higher heels. But the most memorable thing among the many things about Crystal was what you saw when she walked away - her broad and glorious arse.

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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong === I arrived at my office the next day to find an envelope on my desk with my name written on it in neat, if rather florid, handwriting. It read "Robert" which was slightly odd because everyone at work calls me Rob.

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I left you a note posted at the door stating: "Strip down naked and meet me in our back room." From the back room, I could hear you laugh as you read it, but I smiled and hoped you would comply. I heard you, first removing your shoes and letting them drop loudly on the floor. The ensuing silence made me think that you might be taunting me, but I let out a sigh as I heard you mumble something about your pants.

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Jackie could not believe that she was doing this; kneeling on the floor beside the bed in her motel room, performing oral sex on a twenty-one-year-old total stranger. She had met Eric in the bar across the street from the motel that she was staying at, with her eighteen-year-old daughter, Karen.

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