Your erotic stories

Steve found himself the last person in the office again. It was another late night, and Christmas was fast approaching but he just had to finish the sales proposal. It was a huge account and could make or break his bonus for the next year. It was all going to be worth it in the end, he told himself. He girlfriend, Beth, had been bitching constantly about the late nights that Steve was putting in.

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When I took over as chair of the office social committee, I was not aware that one of the tasks I'd inherited from the previous chair was helping the boss set up for the company Christmas party that he hosted at his house. It wasn't something I should have had to do, but the previous chair had set a precedent that I was then obliged to uphold. It wasn't all bad, though, since the party was on a Saturday night and they offered to let me get ready over there rather than having to run home and run back.

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There was a low hum flecked with snapping electronic spatter as the actresses' throaty moans of enjoyment reverberated through the low quality PC speakers waltzing an arc across the desk against the shackles of their electronic leashes. The three of us stood there in the school computer room with the Principal Ms. Marchelle McElroy and the Mathematics teacher Mrs.

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Perhaps one of the most sensual and erotic experiences I ever had occurred nearly twenty years ago now. But the memory of it remains with me to this day. Back then I worked with a woman named Lucille. I was in my early thirty's at that time, and Lucille was some twenty or so years older than I was. But the age difference hardly mattered between us, we got along famously, and I looked forward to seeing and working with her on a daily basis. At first there was nothing at all sexual even mentioned between us, she had a very 'rigid' upbringing, and things of that nature weren't easily discussed amongst coworkers anyway, especially between us.

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My name is Jacob. I am 21 and I work as a materials handling specialist for a Chicago construction company. It pays very well, and while not always the most exciting job in the world it does have it's moments, like the time we ordered 500 toilet seals and received 500 toilet seats. But I digress. This story is about my Senior Prom. I had just turned 18 at the time and was dating this beautiful young woman named Stella. Blonde, blue eyed, 46 DD with a nice big ass. She was the object of my teen angst.

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"That's her. Check it out. Wow," whispered Billy Sherman's buddy. They were at the town bar that they had been going to since before they were legally allowed to drink. And there, at the end of the long bar, not far from the door, sat Sue Lockhart, the middle school gym teacher.

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Tiffany Dawson stepped into the therapist's office of a walk-in clinic on a rainy Monday afternoon after work. She'd made sure her son Michael knew dinner was wanting for him in the oven and that'd she'd be home by six o' clock. Tiffany was a tiny woman, just over five feet tall, but she had a curvy build. Men and women alike often complimented her on her generous breasts, slender midsection and thick thighs. Tiffany's long, dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. A few tendrils had escaped and they gently caressed her smooth shoulders.

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Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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Divorce didn't figure to be a matter of any particular concern to Josie. Both she and her husband had done well in their careers. If need be she could live well on her own salary plus royalties, but she didn't need to. Rod had been so anxious to shed his middle-aged wife in order to marry the girl barely older than their daughter he agreed to give Josie whatever her lawyer asked.

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ONE Randi surveyed the large hotel suite as the bellboy took care of her luggage. The room offered two plush queen beds and a large front living area with two leather couches, a wet-bar with a marble top and a gas fireplace. She tipped the belloy handsomely even though she caught him openly leeering at her on numerous occasions. Although in her late forties with two children in school, Randi Boehmon could still turn heads. A petite woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes set above high cheekbones, she was oftentimes told that she resembled Kelly Ripa.

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