Your erotic stories

My name is Trish, and my life changed by pure coincidence. A single friend of mine was showing me this website she was using to help find people for her to "hook up" with. I wasn't really interested because I'm happily married and have been for twenty years, but it was great hearing her get excited about it. She just gave me a quick overview of the site, punched in some search criteria and let me look at the results.

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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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Do I have issues with my wife? No. Do I love my wife? Of course I do. We have been married for awhile and together way longer than that. So as always happens we had become accustomed to a certain way of living. Not that it was bad, but it was predictable. Work all week, me wanting sex during the week and the wife just too tired. Scheduled love time on the weekend.

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It was a Friday night in spring, prime time for frat parties around campus. My roommate, Shauna, and I were freshmen and often attended one of these parties to have something to do. But we almost always left early out of boredom with the drunken antics of the younger frat brothers. This Friday started and ended differently.

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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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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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My name is Kay. I'm a 31 year-old, happily un-married middle-class white woman with a marvelous life - except for being addicted to sex. Maybe it's only the risk factor that I'm addicted to. I honestly don't know, but I do know I'll sometimes take awful risks to anonymously and spontaneously fuck total strangers. There, now that I have that part out of the way maybe I can also be honest with the rest of what I want to explain.

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He had been tracking his female's scent for days when he located her. Immediately he recognized who she was and what she meant to him. It had taken him awhile to realize that the circling path she was wondering could only mean that she was lost. Amazing, he had never known any of their kind to be lost. She was obviously young. Panic had struck him for a moment that she would be too young. However further study of her scent established her age to be well into her breeding years.

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Billie was tiny, less than 5' tall, maybe 4'10" , weighed maybe 100 lbs., and cute as she could be. She was wearing a short-skirt skating outfit like ice skaters wear, but it was a roller-rink. Jay, John and I had been watching her and her boyfriend from High School (they'd enrolled at the Baptist College in town together) whirl around the floor, her like the little acrobat she was, him stumbling along with her. He was almost as clumsy as she was adept.

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I had made it known to you very early on in our relationship that I needed to be inside you. It is something that is very important to me, something that defines who I am. You were too shy and reluctant to even discuss it, but, fully aware of my needs and desires, our relationship continued. We both enjoyed our intimate explorations of each other.

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