Your erotic stories

My heart quickens as I take your hand and lead you down the empty hallway. You glance over at me with a suspicious smirk, a knowing glint flashing across your crystal blue eyes. I return your smile and continue towards my intended destination. After a brief inspection of the surrounding hall I see nor hear any sign of others in the area of the building. I reach out and push the bathroom door open, dragging you inside. An enthusiastic smile beams across your beautiful face as the door swings shut and I approach, backing you up against the sink.

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Chapter One: New York City to Albany. The Port Authority Bus Terminal in New York City, circa 1971, was a very cold and sinister place to hang around, and I made it a point to spend as little time as possible there while waiting for my bus. I was 18 years old and alone, and while I had grown familiar enough with the city to navigate to and from my Aunt Elle's home in Queens, once I entered that dank and dismal bus terminal, I kept to myself as much as possible, and held onto my gym bag very tightly.

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I needed a vacation and a tropical island was the best remedy for the mid-winter blues. Any island would do, as long as it had warm, sandy beaches. So I booked a trip to Jamaica and before I knew it, I was on a plane headed south away from the snow and the cold.

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Chapter One: Unrecognizable. "I don't usually drink," said the woman in the passenger seat, and the voice was just as slurred as it had been when she said the exact same sentence a half hour ago. "I know," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road and being extra careful, because even though I had very little to drink and would pass any breathalyzer test, the last thing I wanted to do was to have to do stupid human tricks on the side of the road for a state trooper.

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Every year the Company held a Halloween party and it never failed to be a masquerade though the theme changed every year to keep the concept from becoming boring. This year the theme just happened to be 'favorite actor/actress'. Mya didn't go every year, actually her track record was one party every two years for the past eight years that she had worked for the Company which only put her at four parties total. Well...it would be four after this year's party, at least.

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Sara and I had been married about five years. We were deeply in love (although I've always been a bit mystified about what she sees in me). Our sex life was regular, vigorous, and enjoyable. However, we were both a looking for the next peak. We were both in our early thirties. Sara was, in my opinion, gorgeous. She had rich red hair (complimented by a neatly trimmed red bush). Her face had a few freckles and, while perhaps not classically beautiful, had character, humor, and intelligence.

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Moving to a new town is never easy, especially when you're 18. My name is Jason, and a quarter of the way into my senior year, and my dad gets a new job a thousand miles away. I hollered, whined, and complained as much as I could, but to no avail. My mom insisted that I stop making a fuss. She said this would be hard on all of us and that dad had no choice. If he didn't take this job we would lose the house since we there was no way we could pay for it for all we invested into it. She said that seeing us upset would just make it harder for him than it already was.

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I've always fantasized about viewing a movie in an adult theater just to see if the rumors are true. I fantasize about being approached by multiple men, horny with lust for anonymous sex with me. Men wanting to ravage me, cum in and on me, raw sex, nothing but. I know it sounds sick, nasty and perverted, I don't really give a damn . It's my fantasy. It isn't like I'd ever really do it but the thought of it makes me wet.

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Having read stories on Literotica for a few years, I finally started writing and posting stories at the beginning of this year. I never knew what an effect it would have on my life! I always imagined that this site was a place where we described our fantasies. I never suspected it would lead to one of them actually happening.

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Lisbeth was bored. She idly went through the motions of straightening the shelves of the upscale boutique where she worked on this dreary Thursday morning. Lisbeth was twenty-four and she married less than two years ago, having come from her native Denmark as an au pair originally. The Georgetown lawyer to whom she was married treated her as a trophy wife, insisting that she escort him to his many social events, but once they got home, the middle-aged partner became icily cold to Lisbeth, precluding any carnal activities.

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