Your erotic stories

A meeting with the new boss, great. I hadn't met him yet so he called me away from my busy schedule just so I could meet with him. I hated meetings and was notorious for it, thinking they were usually a diversion from the task at hand. I walked down the hall toward his office, my face with an agitated grimace on it. Some of my co-workers caught on and began cracking jokes about it. "Mark Johnston," a sign on his office door proclaimed as I knocked.

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Ok, so here's the deal. My name is Marissa Adams, I'm 18 years old and I am a maid at a hotel/casino in Las Vegas. I'm not complaining, pay's good, my co-workers are great and I meet very interesting people and a few stars. Just last week Shaq was staying in the NBA Suite. But that's no where near the best part of my perfect job.

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There was this blond woman who worked in my office, Jennifer. She was small—-five-two-—but with proportionately curvy C-cup tits, a solid little ass, and shapely legs that could run a seven-minute-mile. She was five years younger than me—-just 25—-and while she didn't work directly for me, she was under me—-apparently in more ways than one.

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I guess I should be ashamed of myself, but I'm not, really. A little guilty maybe, but not ashamed. I took advantage of a situation that I probably shouldn't have, but you know, I think it's going to work out for everybody concerned. I'm a mid-level manager for a medium size company, and I have about twenty or so employees. Our department has three accountants, one a senior accountant in charge of the other two.

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"You probably think I'm too old for you." I paused to consider. The fact was: he was too old for me. He was more than twice my age. I had dated men a little older than me, but I usually stuck with men under thirty. There was also the fact that Aaron was the Santa Claus at the mall where I manage a department store, and while he looked decidedly different, and more attractive, when he was out of his costume, I still couldn't bring myself to go on a date with Santa.

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"You may enter the room now, sir." A pause. "Sir...Daniel?" I was off in my own little world, oblivious of the kind voice speaking to me. "I'm sorry," I offered, snapping back into the current reality. My eyes focused on the receptionist, a warm, middle-aged woman, smiling understandably at me.

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What are your fantasies? What gets you off late at night when you only have yourself and your favourite toy? For me, my fantasy life is way more adventurous than my reality. In my fantasy life, I am seduced and made a sexual pet by Mrs. Walker, the hottest teacher ever. In my fantasy life, I am just getting out of my cheerleading uniform, when the whole football team walks in and has their way with me.

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Sebastian could tell that she was upset, but was not quite sure if he should attempt to console her, or for that matter, exactly how he would go about approaching her with an offer of comfort. He had seen the despondent expression she had been wearing on her face all night and thought that she looked like she might be about to cry when she excused herself from the table and left the banquet hall to go upstairs to her hotel room. He had quickly said goodnight to his dining companions at the next table and followed her to the lobby, not totally sure of what he was intending to do if, and when, he caught up with her.

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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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Anyways, so I was at work finishing up some end of the day shit after everyone else had gone home for the day. For whatever reason my mind started to drift to my happy places and gradually I became more aroused and less concerned with work. After a few minutes of daydreaming about a beautiful set of ass cheeks spread before me, I decided to sit back and pull out my cock.

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