Your erotic stories

She knew he wanted her. She strode efficiently between the workstations; her eyes never wavered from the door to her office, she walked with purpose and confidence. She acknowledged him, but only in a curt professional manner, she wasn't here to be anyone's friend. His eyes followed her to her office, she knew he watched her and she enjoyed it.

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She wakes, quietly but thoroughly, her hand cupping one soft, breast, the nipple hard and elongated beneath her palm. Her fingers sweep out and under, trailing butterfly touches along the sensitive underside of her breast. Squeezing gently, her eyes seek the stiff red tip, measuring the length of her arousal. Her dreams are wisps of ether, hints of sexual longings and sweet couplings. She already feels aroused.

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One of the first things I noticed when I started interning at this company was Matt, our "fitness consultant," a professional bodybuilder that's been hired to keep the office in shape by running exercise classes in the company gym and making various recommendations.

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I didn't get into sex when most of my friends did. I'm not sure why, but at thirteen and fourteen when my friends were starting to take an active interest in sex and boys, I just wasn't that interested. I suspect my hormones were late bloomers or something. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I started to feel the urges, and I tried to deal with them at bedtime by touching myself with very little results for some reason.

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Though he was twenty six years old Charlie still lived with his divorced mother; in her basement in fact, because he couldn't afford a place of his own. Charlie wanted to move out and get an apartment or perhaps rent a townhouse, but with his meager salary his prospects were not good.

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She had come out of the fortune-tellers a changed woman. Pausing only briefly at the entrance, she looked around her for a moment and walked briskly to the train station. She stood in the throng of the station concourse, examining the departures before walking into the ticket office. The train she chose was leaving in only a few minutes, leaving her no time to sit around and ponder what on earth she was doing.

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I cracked my eyes and was rewarded with a faceful of harsh morning light streaming through my girlfriend's window. It must have been about 8, 8:30. Way too early to be conscious on a Sunday morning, particularly given the way we had tied one on the night before. I looked over at Erin. She was laying on her side, facing away from me, still sleeping.

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"What's this?!" Harlan said to himself. "Lorraine's the last person I expected to run into tonight. She's married! At least, she was the last time we talked. And, who's that cute, little redhead sitting next to her?" Harlan had never cruised the city's cougar dens to pick up women. Life was complicated enough with his job and the girls he was already dating.

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You Are Not My Father. That was what my daughter Amy said to me. She was right of course, we had not met until she was twelve but much to the amazement of the three of us we got along well from the start. I did all the Dad things and perhaps a few more. I took her out on a to dinner dates on her birthdays, just the two of us. I taught her to drive. I was always dressed and polite when her friends came over.

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"Hey baby?" Uh oh. I've heard that tone of voice before. Whenever you get that sort of introduction, you know that what comes after it can't be good. It usually is followed by something like, We gotta talk. "We gotta talk," she said. Damn. Here I was, relaxing. I had the game controller in my hand, the bad guys in my crosshairs.

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