Your erotic stories

Oh my Sarah, You sure know how to make my panties wet. I just LOVE your lesbian stories. I 'm a straight married women who loves to masturbate to lesbian erotica stories. It's my naughty little secret. If you ever want to naughty chat, email me.

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"Yes! Yes! Give it to me!" Melanie Taylor urged the man sprawled on top of her as he drove his cock in and out of her pussy. "Make me come! Make me come!" Jeff Hood was in no hurry to reach that point, admirable though it was. To do what she wanted, he would have to keep fucking Mellie until she was close to an orgasm and he was also ready to come. Then, at the right instant, he would yank his cock from her pussy and finish by stroking it with his hand until he sprayed his semen on her face.

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Meena is a school teacher. She teaches English literature. In a girls' school. She is well thought of by her pupils and the school principal. After 12 years in the school, she'd become part of the structure of the place. She'd been there longer than the principal herself and is a source of advice and insider-information whenever it's needed.

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Kathy Porter was feeling a really powerful need -- she very much wanted to get her ass fucked by a big, hard cock. Truth be told, she would have preferred to have that cock plowing into her pussy until she climaxed but she was far too worried about getting pregnant to do that. Her controlling husband, who had gotten religion in a big way just a year ago, was adamantly opposed to the use of any kind of artificial birth control, especially including The Pill.

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"My mom's convinced I won't graduate without getting pregnant," Kaylea told me, tucking in her shirt before tying her apron around her waist. "There are ways to make sure that doesn't happen," I joked. She rolled her eyes at me. "I'm serious, Kaylea." "I know," she said. "I'm careful. I won't get pregnant, Tim, I promise." As her boss instead of a teacher or parent, I knew I could say things to her other adults couldn't. "Famous last words of eighteen year olds everywhere," I teased right before adding the words I never should have said.

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One summer afternoon, April Price waited stoically in line at the check stand in the small, upscale supermarket where she bought most of her groceries. The old woman in front of her had a whole cartful, so April passed the time by looking at the covers of the array of fan magazines on display. When all the old woman's purchases had been rung up and bagged and paid for, the checker asked her the question he asked all customers.

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I had one year to go in my studies, at university, for my degree in public relations, arts, and media studies. I was starting to get a bit desperate for money. All my university bills were due. I was working part time in a coffee shop, but that had more or less stopped, since I had refused to have sex with the owner, even though he offered to pay me 200 dollars. I just did not fancy his big fat sweaty body on mine, and I knew he would want more and more if I agreed.

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The scent of cooked turkey still lingered in kitchens across America and the shops and stores were already decorated for Christmas; the coffee shop where Carol sat being no exception. Disconsolately sipping her latte, she didn't feel in a very celebratory mood. The promise of employment that had motivated her to leave home and move to the city hadn't materialized and now she was homesick, low on funds and still job hunting.

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I stared at my reflection in the mirror and thought to myself "how did my life come to this?" I am successful business owner, a mother of two great children, and my husband is a good man even when he is not being a total asshole. So why am I thinking of crossing the line with someone else? Why is it after all this time I am doubting my sexuality? I am 43 years old and never thought that I would be tempted by someone of the same sex. But I never intended to meet someone like her. I knew the day I meet her that there was something more behind her eyes then first perceived.

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