Your erotic stories

I washed my bowl out and set it in the sink. Glancing over at the stove, I put the lid back on the pot of Chili and wiped my hands on a towel hanging from the oven. Turning up the glass of iced water, I all but chugged it down to wash the spice from my mouth. I knew I needed to quit eating hot chili. I dreaded the inevitable heartburn I would no doubt experience later.

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The last thing I expected to see when I got home was my girlfriend naked on our bed, her legs spread wide, her own tits in her hands and her fingers pinching her nipples. The most surprising part of it, though, was that face down in her crotch was a guy that wasn't me. He was eating her madly, his hands under her ass, holding her to him.

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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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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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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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"Just take it," my best friend whispered in my ear before switching aisles. Like a pro, she pocketed a pack of gummy bears to go with a bag of chips. It stunned me that she could be so apathetic about the whole thing. Stealing? I'd never stolen anything in my life -- not even first base! Yet with nervous hands, I picked up a little baggie of Swedish fish, and looked towards the register. The man there was sitting with his feet up on the counter and his head down, staring into a home and gardening magazine.

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