Your erotic stories

So the truth was, I'd hired her for her tits. The benefit was, she was sharp as a tack, the heart and soul of the daily operations as it turned out. The fact that Theresa had looks, and like I said a great pair of tits that she (sort of) enjoyed showing off was an obvious factor when I had hired her on. Being damn intelligent and multi-functional, I only learned after she had started working for me. Theresa had an olive complexion, long dark hair with deep-set brown eyes and full lips that were just begging to be kissed every time she looked at you.

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"Seriously, Val, you need to get a hobby or something. It can't be good for you spending so much time alone." Valerie looked sideways at her friend and smiled. "I don't mind spending time by myself, you know that." "I know you say you don't mind, but I still think it can't be good for you." Like a spy resisting interrogation, Lucinda would stubbornly repeat her point over and over until the opposing party cracked and subjected themselves to her will. Valerie had known her long enough to realise this and accepted that it was just part of Lucinda's individual charm.

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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I am Anna, a 24-year-old suburban librarian. I have blue eyes and one of those innocent faces, with an easy smile. My hair is long and red; I usually curl and then pile it up for a professional look at work. The rest of the time I love to feel it on my back and shoulders. I have to dress conservatively for the job, low heels naturally, with a skirt and silk blouse -- nothing too showy.

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I came in from work about noon on Friday. I had been gone for a little over two weeks. Pulling in the driveway, I noticed that my daughter's car was gone but her best friend's car was parked in front of the boat on the far side of the carport. You talk about a pair to draw to; those two were it. My daughter is tall, dark, and slender, Sissy is even taller, blonde, and equally as slender.

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Naomi Phillips stood at the bus stop, her shoulders slumped, eyes staring ahead blankly. Her mind kept going over and over the events of the summer, when she and her parents had moved to this new neighborhood. They were so happy and then... Why did her father have to have a fatal heart attack? Why was he having an affair with his secretary? How could he have squandered his wife's and daughter's future on this sordid affair?

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Dawn felt the big boat move, and tensed, remembering again where she was. She sat up straight, and looked out the window, watching the jetty recede, and the people still milling about on it get smaller. The boat rocked faintly, and she swallowed. It was not as bad she had originally thought, but what on earth would she do if this thing capsized? She couldn't swim, and she knew no one on the boat. She opened her pocketbook and searched for the little notepad and pen.

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