Your erotic stories

Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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I was in Manila for business for 10 days, and had a lot to accomplish, but didn't know the local culture, or have many local contacts. Through an old school friend, I contacted the Chair of the Industrial Engineering Department of De La Salle University to get a recommendation for a highly professional student who could act as my local liaison for the week.

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"Kathy? Short for Kathleen? Katherine?" Thomas asked lightly as he poured them both a drink. A strong one for the pale redhead sitting in his easy chair nervously fidgeting. "What? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess...I guess just actually being here...well, I'm very...this just isn't me, something I would normally do," she replied with a drop of her head.

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She was awakened as she had been so very many times before... By the exquisite feeling of a talented tongue lapping relentlessly between her legs. She had almost come to expect the morning ritual that she loved so dearly. Her husband Peter always managed to wake in the morning just a few minutes before she and very early in their relationship had taken to waking her by crawling under the bed covers and finding her well-rested pussy ready and waiting for him.

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I walked into the pub through the side door. It was just how I remembered it. The sun shone through the front glass doors, to splay rays across the dusty wooden floorboards. My friends were already waiting for me at a table. They'd chosen a great spot, right next to the window, we could feel the warm winter sun through the window panes, yet still all fit comfortably around one table. I hugged most of my friends tight – I had not seen some of them for 8 months!

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"What exactly is this little meeting about, Mr. Cross?" Mrs. Morrison said as she leaned back against her desk and looked at her pupil. With her arms crossed, her breasts swelled up to almost overflow from her red blouse. Lawrence Julian Cross III smiled up at the middle-aged math teacher. He took in her short frame like he'd done for months. She had to be at least a foot shorter than his six foot two inches.

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Working the night shift at a convenience store can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially when I get those guys showing up one minute after midnight, telling me their watches say it's 11:58 and they want their fucking beer. Or the welfare breeder chicks with their four kids by different fathers who get their brats to buy ten-cent gumballs with a dollar food stamp, then use the change to buy cheap beer.

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Brian was sipping coffee and taking in the vista of the Long Island Sound from the oversized sun room at the rear of his mansion in Old Field. The room was what he had built the entire house around, and he had cleared out trees and brush in order to afford himself an unobstructed view of the water. There were few things in life that made him as happy as the sight of the water and the ever present smell of the salt air.

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For most people, a time comes, sometime along the way, where they find themselves in an economic jam. Something happens, something comes up, something goes amiss, and extra money is needed to fix it. Things like this can happen to even the most careful and responsible planners. Like Tara Smith.

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Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the director of accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voicemail. No one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

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