Your erotic stories

The Gash was the worst beat in town, and being the cop working it meant that you had three options: get promoted and get reassigned, leave the force, or wait to die. Cops had a shorter lifespan in The Gash than a white-girl's virginity did in a rap concert. I had worked this beat once, before I took done a cop-killing drug-dealing Puerto Rican slut named La Zorra and made vice. There was no need for me to come back to this shitty-ass place, but I wanted to. The Gash was my connection to someone I cared about. Someone who needed my help.

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"My god this is a slow night! What the hell is everyone doing?" Constable Lydia Knightley was bored to tears, almost literally, and struggling to keep awake in the worst way. 2am on a twelve-hour night shift was the beginning of the nods, and with no action around, there was nothing but will power keeping her awake.

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I had been driving for a full hour before I saw the ram shackled huddle of buildings appear like a mirage at the road side. Though I'd travelled this desert road from Reno so many times it still came as a surprise when Froggie Bills gas station appeared like it had been dropped from the heavens. I slowed my car eager to stretch my legs and no doubt share a few words with the eccentric owner.

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I put the phone down and dropped my head in my hands. Looking round the Office I could see the quiet faces looking at me as I brushed my hair back and sat up straight. Jess was poised by one of the Admin Team, looking expectantly at me. "Wilson, has found out we're on to him. He's spent the last half hour shredding any evidence that might incriminate him. "

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I had just finished my last appointment for the day. My wrists were killing me. I loved being my own boss as a massage therapist, but 7 sessions in almost as many hours wreaked havoc on my muscles. I'd just opened my small office a few days earlier and already people were clamoring. They were mostly former clients I'd worked on during my training. Before locking up and heading home, I decided to tidy up the changing room instead of waiting for tomorrow.

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When I caught the flashing lights out of the corner of my eye, I froze. My muscles instantly tensed up and I recognized the sensation of warm adrenaline flooding my veins. not again. With apprehension, I glanced down at the speedometer. 40 in a 25.

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- 1 - My husband Dan is an engineer—and, I strongly suspect, a sex addict. Until recently, these were separate parts of his life. Not that I'm complaining, too much, about Dan's strong libido. He's always been faithful. And he's also a willing student—and budding master—of my body. I may want sex less frequently than he, but I probably get more enjoyment from it than I deserve for my own efforts. Besides, Dan's curiosity and drive definitely keeps things interesting in our bedroom—and sometimes outside of it too!

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"Am I glad to be leaving the office, I have been here for twelve hours!" As I exited the building, the security officer Scott locked up behind me. Thinking about the hour drive home, I remembered the toy in my purse. Scott was just walking back to his desk as I knocked on the door. He walked back over, unlocked the door and smiled. "Forget something?"

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The whole of this story is untrue, any resemblance to those people, places or events is purely coincidence. I always encourage you to wear protection, but in this story its purely fantasy. Working as an undercover cop posed certain risk I never new how much risk until I got my last assignment. I was working narcotics on the south side we had this particular band of dealers in our sights for a while now, but it was too hard to do surveillance on them due to their location.

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It was the stupidest thing I've done in my entire life; let's be honest, I knew that at the time but I still did it, silly cow! It was just before Christmas, and I'd gone with a few of my fellow teachers to the pub to celebrate the end of term – my first in my new profession. I'm Cathy Hull by the way, 23, pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way with a pale face, regular features, shoulder length brown hair (mousey, if I'm, being honest), and quite petite, five-foot-four with a slim figure. I'm from just outside London, and the school I teach at is about fifty miles north of my home town.

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