Your erotic stories

"I am not going to apologize." He was adamant. He refused to apologize. She was not going to convince him that he owed Patsy an apology, neither was he was going to tell her what really happened. She might explode. "Dad, just call her, alright? She wants you to call. You do not need to use the word, "apology," but you do need to call her. She said you left, just walked out." "Oh, alright, Mary Ann, I'll talk to her later, but I'm busy right now." He thought if he offered a good enough excuse to his daughter, she would hang up and leave him alone.

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Anna had worked at the photo processing lab for nearly two years. Rich had been her favorite customer since day one. Rich was an amateur sports photographer and he was still learning the ins and outs of photography. He and Anna shared photography tips and techniques, he taught her about lenses and cameras, she taught him about color and composition. Despite the drastic difference in their ages, their personalities clicked from the beginning and they became friends of sorts.

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He keeps saying that it can't happen again. Every time, as soon as his afterglow wears off, the guilt and self-loathing kicks in and he spits out those words that always make me smile. He is so adorable, trying to fight this like either one of us has a choice. I keep telling him that this is bigger than both of us, and he would be much happier if he would just give in. Give in to his fate...the way that I did the very instant that I saw him.

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Steve had thought that he'd have a quiet Saturday afternoon to himself. The house was empty. His wife had gone shopping with friends, the boys were out with their mates and Kirsty had to go to the library to complete the paper she had to write. She'd hoped not to go, but found she was missing some information at the last minute and so had to make a quick dash.

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Part 1 It was almost 7:30 in the evening as I made my way east on West 53rd toward my hotel when the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. I didn't have an umbrella, of course, because - even though my hotel had complimentary ones - men don't use umbrellas...so they can get wet...because that makes us cool. But, instead of being cool, I decided to get dry and have a drink.

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Brian pushed against the large revolving doors, his laptop case slung over one shoulder. Coming out the other side, he thought the building was even quieter and emptier than normal. The tiny shops on either side of the wide concourse were closed, as was always the case at seven thirty in the morning. Ahead, the escalator hummed as one unused step after other rose to the second floor.

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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.

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So here it was, Thanksgiving Day, and I found myself in a strange man's bathroom, with my pantyhose pulled down around my knees, my dress hiked up over my hips, and that strange man's cock sliding in and out of my pussy. Well, in truth, he wasn't a complete stranger ... he was my boyfriend's father and I had met him two hours prior. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning.

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Robert Kyle had finally had it. Everyday he allowed his American History class the last five minutes of the period to themselves. And everyday during those last five minutes, the female student sitting directly in front of him would do something to give him a raging hard-on. Dropping a pencil. Re-tying a shoelace. Tossing something in the wastebasket and missing by a mile. All three caused her to have to bend over.

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Tiffanie strays into the arms of an older man and has her first threesome experience with another woman. It was only a few weeks ago now that I blurted out through tears that I had been unfaithful to my partner whilst I was overseas. We had discussed marriage in one of those long, after sex cuddles when you feel warm and full of love endorphins. He had volunteered the information that he had had a 'fling' with a girl he met at a party and spent the weekend screwing her.

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