Your erotic stories

It's a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and we are lying in the park. I have my head in your lap, listening to you reading snippets from a magazine as you lazily stroke my hair. My eyes drift closed and I start to get lost in the sound of your voice, your touch, and I think of what I what I want you to be doing to me. I open my eyes just the slightest bit, focus on the shape of your lips and am mesmerized. Your lips can leave the sweetest kisses, yet elicit such desire as they burn across my body.

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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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As I drive to your house I think about our lives. Both new members of the single parent club, it is hard for us to find time to be alone together but we always do. You don't live that far away, but when my pussy is wet and throbbing as I think of you it seems like I will never get there. Finally, I turn off the main road and am that much closer to you. The road turns to dirt and through the field and trees I see the back of your property where you took me to look at shooting stars.

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My name is Jacob. I am 21 and I work as a materials handling specialist for a Chicago construction company. It pays very well, and while not always the most exciting job in the world it does have it's moments, like the time we ordered 500 toilet seals and received 500 toilet seats. But I digress. This story is about my Senior Prom. I had just turned 18 at the time and was dating this beautiful young woman named Stella. Blonde, blue eyed, 46 DD with a nice big ass. She was the object of my teen angst.

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It was during my first summer holiday since I'd gone to university when it happened. I had gone into town one Saturday afternoon to get some CDs, when I saw walking down the street towards me my French teacher from school. Generally I didn't really like meeting my old teachers, it was always a bit odd being treated normally by people who had been authority figures for me only a short time ago, and even if Mrs Woodcock (she was French, but had married an English guy)

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Once upon a time, there was a magical shower head. The thing was super adjustable, the water pressure just right, and I was able to dial in a concentrated, pulsing stream; one which, when I faced away on hands and knees and arched my back just so, perfectly targeted my tight, tawny, nineteen-year-old bullseye, pummeling me into steamy, protracted spasms of anal bliss.

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"Hon, would you get the door. That's probably Mark" Jenna, like usual, was running late. A pile of dresses lay on the bedroom floor, as she scrutinized the latest choice in the full-length mirror in the upstairs bathroom. Although the latest option was not as flattering as she'd hoped, she realized that it would have to suffice if they were going to make their dinner reservations, and she frantically began the process of applying make-up.

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Caleb ran down the alley trying to make it back home. Lucien was in town and the master vampire wasn't very happy with him. Dodging a street merchant, he found the fire escape for his apartment and quickly climbed the three flights to his window. It wasn't always like this. Caleb had been the mate for a master vampire. The master of London if you want to be more technical, however he had always felt out of place in London. Lucien had tried to make him feel comfortable, but it never worked too well.

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"I have never...had a one night stand." I lifted my glass and took a drink. Dan and Serena did likewise, smiling as they drank from their large mugs while Erin sat back and watched with a smug expression. "Okay," Dan said, wiping his mouth as he set his beer back down on the table. "My turn." We all turned our attention towards him as he stroked his chin as if trying to think of something to say.

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I sat with my feet up, flipping through random television channels as I repeatedly glanced at the clock on the wall. Although I fully trusted my fiancé, I knew how crazy bachelorette parties could get. Even so, it wasn't Lacey's behaviour that I was concerned about. I was far more worried about how my friend Jenna was fitting in with my girlfriend and her comparatively snooty friends.

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