Your erotic stories

"How did I get myself into this mess?" I thought to myself as I lay there on the bottom bunk, in my new home for awhile. I jail cell in the State Penitentiary, with 'Terry the Terror' as my new roommate. My nightmare started three days ago when I decided to buy some weed. I had went to a seedy part of town just looking for a little weed, nothing more.

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I had served six years on a 10 years sentence for possession and weapons charges without any complications or problems. Looking forward to my trip in front of the Parole board soon only for them to tell me once again that I will not be released. I'm not mad it's just a part of life. My temper and my "I don't give a fuck" attitude got me where I am right now. Sorry let me introduce my self. My name is Kevin Terrell, KT to everyone but my mother, grandmother and the government.

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Candy Struthers was the hottest reporter on television at the moment. Her career had skyrocketed over the past two years with her uncanny ability to sniff out momentous leads, as well as landing extraordinary interviews with infamous celebrities, disgraced politicians, and celebrated lawbreakers. That she was only twenty-four years of age was only part of her aura – she had a law degree, an incredible razor-sharp intellect, and an amazing talent to rise to the top.

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Derek leaned against the metal railing as his grey eyes passed over the crowded cafeteria. With the entire population wearing the same uniform he had to focus on faces in order to differentiate each inmate.

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Sorry no sex scene's. This is Part 2 to Prison Time. I hope you enjoy. Hayden had only been gone a couple of days before I talked myself into believing he had moved on with someone else. I knew I couldn't take Hayden home to my mother. She would freak out, so would the rest of my family.

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There is something particularly humiliating about being arrested covered in cum, piss, and surrounded by big black men, especially when you were once a very well-off businessman with a simple insertion fetish. My whole private life had been exposed in a day, and it affected my professional life a great deal. My face was plastered all over the news for weeks. Obviously they weren't flashing my cum covered naked ass on the nightly news, but plenty of pictures surfaced on the Internet and were making their rounds. It was a huge scandal.

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It's unusual for me to escort a prisoner alone, but we are in the middle of a shift change, it's a quiet night on the cell block, and besides the other guards like to bust my balls about equal rights and this gave them the opportunity to crack a few jokes. I'm the only female guard that works this cellblock, and getting picked on is just another hazard in the work place. Frank Pascua, who is leaving for the night, wished me good luck as he pulled on his jacket.

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Carly hit the "info" button on her remote, to scan the Friday night cable schedule. Her boyfriend was working tonight, and wouldn't be home until at least 3:00am. She had the whole night to herself, and she was going to make the most of it. On the kitchen counter, she had a bottle of tequila, just begging to be opened. She poured a double shot into a short glass, took a sip, and closed her eyes as the warm liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat.

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When I woke up, I panicked, almost choked on the collar around my throat. The leather dug into my windpipe as I jerked on the cold cement floor, hurting my shoulders and arms. My hands were cuffed behind my back, my naked body pressed to the floor sideways, as my legs, which were free, kicked wildly in a desperate attempt to get loose. I let out a feral scream, almost choking again on the thick leather around my neck.

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Two months later I walked out the prison a free man. I enjoyed the bus ride to my hometown. My mother was surprise when she saw me standing on her porch. We sat and talked before the front door slammed open. My sister ran over almost knocking me down. "You're ass better be home for good!" She yelled as she ran up the steps. "Oh, my God!" The voice was my ex-girlfriend Gloria. "Why didn't you call me when you were on you way home?"

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