Your erotic stories

It's a crowded elevator, in one of those interminably tall city buildings, and you, of course, work very near the top floor. You're being squished between crowds of people. A wonderful start to the day, you think. Suddenly, you feel it. There, again! Definitely more than just accidental contact. A pair of hands is stroking your ass through your skirt. You'd normally be offended, but the contact feels so good, strong, yet tender.

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The heading at the top of the screen simply reads: "What is your ultimate fantasy?" I don't know how I found this website but I have been staring at the screen for the past ten minutes too afraid to start filling out the survey. On the home page it states that once you fill in all of the blanks the company will write a personalized story based on what you have described as your ultimate fantasy.

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Shrugging into the jacket of his tuxedo, Jacob smiled hearing the chatter of the crowd that had rapidly gathered in the parking lot below him in anticipation of the doors of the club opening. Earlier while making his rounds seeing that everything was ready he shook his head glancing outside seeing the wealth of jewelry that flashed and the vibrant colors of the couture clothing the women were sporting as they clung to the arms of their tuxedo clad gentlemen.

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It was tradition among our friends to camp out in Jake's backyard at least once every summer. Jake had a giant tent, with three rooms and two closets. The first time we ever set it up it took us two hours. Working under the hot summer sun, joking and sweating, we were confident and untouchable. We were seniors this year, nearing maturity, working out every chance we had. Needless to say, we were very in shape.

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The cabbie looked at me knowingly as I handed over his fare. I just smirked in return. He knew what a girl dressed like I was , what I was after and so did I. I was dressed like a dirty, fucking slut for good reason -- I was a dirty, fucking slut. I had come to this shattering realisation in the twelve months since my eighteenth birthday party (sucking off four different guys as a present to yourself can bring that realisation you know) and ever since I had realised how badly I craved first sex and then as kinky and as filthy sex as could be imagined.

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Unknown to Sue, I planned to share her with whoever sat with us. So, while watching her dress for our trip, I'd insisted she wear a tiny front-clasp 1/4 cup bra with lacy top that fit loosely and barely hid her firm, tall nips above the cups. Instead of the correct 33A bra, she wore a 32B and specially adjusted the straps.

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I want to tell you all a little story about a former fuck buddy of mine. I'm using the term "fuck buddy" here relatively because we never technically fucked per se. Suffice to say that I met a crazy girl who did some crazy things with me. OK, I'm being too vague now, and I'm probably confusing you. Here's how it all happened:

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What I'm about to relate happened last week. In a sense it was the result of a dare, sort of. Let me explain. I made a new friend recently who I'll call Jean. Jean and I hit it off right away; we are so much alike, it's scary. Although we differ somewhat in age -- I'm fifty-something, she's thirty-something -- it turns out we both share a wild and naughty aspect to our personalities ... and, we both love cock.

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It was a hot summer day when Eric suggested they go out for a good meal and maybe dancing. Paula loved to dance, she could shake her ass better than most and had a ass most like to watch being shaken. With her long blonde hair and large breast she could still turn heads. She looked through her closet and found the little black sun dress she knew would show off her body and would make her man horny as hell.

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It was 4:30 p.m. and already dark one dreary, rainy late January day in Portland. As usual, I stopped by my local Fred Meyer store to buy some items for dinner. One trip to Montreal years ago and, ever since, I've liked buying just enough fresh items for dinner each night. I even shop with an old web sack that I got when I bought too many oranges. It is a ritual now. I see some familiar faces and get to talk to few people briefly before heading to my quiet house and the evening news.

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