Your erotic stories

INTRODUCTION It was the1970's when I accepted the position of Regional Sales Manager with a small software company. The company was headquartered near Philadelphia and had been formed by three men and some silent partners. They were starting to get leads from companies from across the country but they only had a presence on the east coast. They wanted me to become the Western Region Manager and deal with the demand for the company's software.

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He was 34 and had been in her sandwich shop a few times now. And he was handsome too; but running a busy shop and with a family of her own, most conversations with customers were cordial. So when the franchise company had their annual meeting at the hotel and she saw him there, they had a laugh but it was all very cordial. At 42, she didn't think she had much appealing about her but she was wrong.

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I was standing in the small room, in front of a curtained window. Paul's hot breath on the back of my neck was doing little to dispel the tension that was tying me in knots, even though that's exactly what we were here for. The room was pretty dreary really; just this curtained window and a padded massage table behind us against the wall. Tired paint on the walls, scruffed tiled floor and ceiling, as if men before us had been walking the ceiling and dragged across the floor, which, for all I knew, was exactly what had caused the scruffing.

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It has been a while since I've written, and I have to admit there hasn't been a lot to write about. Oh, I am still involved with my former boss, I still am dating a couple nice guys, still working and still enjoying life. At a recent luncheon with my friend Jennifer we reflected on our lives and the little and large things that make us happy. Jennifer has rekindled happy into her personal repertoire since breaking up with Max, a real jerk of a guy. Now she was playing the field, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.

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It was the late 70s. I was in college and not old enough to drink legally, but looked old enough so that my ID was rarely checked. I worked as a cook in a steak house and my asshole manager, Newman, stalked into the kitchen after closing time and barked "There is some cunt asking about you in the bar. The only reason I didn't throw her out is because she is spending money. Go get rid of her and get your ass back here to clean up."

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I arrived a little early to my second date with Chloe. I was nervous. She was definitely a cool girl, but she had a mischievous aura about her - I never knew what she would do next. I guess that would be expected because for all intents and purposes she really was still a stranger, but I felt a crazy kind of energy being around her. Tonight I was picking her up at her apartment, a nice place downtown.

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There is a long, still silence. Finally, you exhale slowly and speak. "Yes." "Yes, what?" You hear my voice beside you. "Yes. ... I surrender... to you." You are blindfolded and tied to your own bed, secured by each ankle and wrist to the four bedposts. You are spread-eagled on your back, naked except for the exquisitely soft blanket covering you from shoulder to ankle.

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"You ready to stick that bad boy back in my tight little ass?" Ashley sneered, turning her heads toward me, looking back, as I crawled and knelt obediently behind her outstretched rear end. "You bet I am!" I exclaimed, eagerly positioning myself, ready to target and plunge my readied spear into her open exhaust shaft. I couldn't believe I was in the position, literally speaking, immediately behind her California grade juicy ripe piece. Only a few hours prior, I had finally met Ashley, the anal goddess.

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From his vantage point, he could look up her body and see her serene face, so peaceful in the afterglow of orgasm. He could also see her bush in front of his face and as he shuddered with arousal at how turned on she made him. In order to kiss her as she wished, he had to let her thighs drape completely over his shoulders, lifting his shoulders up to take her lower body weight completely and bringing her arsecheeks into a better range of accessibility.

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Fireworks burst in the night sky overhead and a menagerie of costumed men and women push past me on the crowded street. The inebriated celebrants shy away and let me pass when I glare them down with my practiced 'Do Not Fuck With Me' face. It takes quite a lot of practice to get it right when you're a five-foot-six woman. I scan the crowd and regain sight of you as you turn down a wide stairway and into an underground concourse. My lips can't help but curl up in a smile.

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