Your erotic stories

I was trying my best to just flow with it, not think too much. I always think too much. Feel, just feel. Breathe, that's the key thing. Be sure to keep breathing. In and out. Nice and easy and smooth. I could get through this. And don't look! I couldn't look. I will soon, I promised myself. But not yet. Breathe.

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"He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff . . ."

The rich, resonating, calming baritone of the La Lectura began to weave Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea for us for perhaps the hundredth time, as we Torcedores settled once more into the rhythm of preparing our bunches of tobacco leaves perfectly for the press. We could not have done our demanding work without La Lectura, the reader who sat on the dais on the cigar factory floor, reading to us, first from the daily press and then from classical works—and sometimes, to our great privilege, reciting poetry to us in perfect rhythm to the set movements of our leaf bundling.

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"Tomorrow. Bring your hands around my sides as I lay enveloped in your lap. Hold me in your hands until tomorrow, one hand cupping my balls, making me vulnerable to your touch, and the other hand possessing my cock closely—and stroke, stroke, stroke. Ahhhhhhh. Still cupping my balls with one hand, move the fingers of the other to my hole and invade and stretch, preparing me for you. Then at the stroke of tomorrow, turn me onto my belly, encase my thighs with your knees, and plunge into me with your firm cock, your palms pushing down on my shoulder blades, and ride me, ride me, r i d e m e . . . Ahhhhhhhhhh!"

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"Hey Babe, have the kids gone to grandma's yet?" I asked as I finished whisking up the fresh whipped cream for our dessert. Dinner was spread out on the table –herbed steak and a garden salad – and the dessert was done except for the cream in the bowl. It needed to whip up and then chill. You watch out the window as Jill and Sydney, our two girls meander next door to spend the night with their grandma.

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"Silas's Choice." "Say what?" Rocky Hansan asked. "Silas's Choice," I repeated. "You are offering me the same options you offered Silas Collins three years ago. Did you realize that?" "Of course not," the chief of the Near East Division said. "Farthest thing from our minds."

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"I hate her," Joe muttered as he watched Natalie bounce through the crowded college courtyard. Two years, they had been together. Two years of wasted emotion, compromises, and plans. Hell, they hadn't really started making love until these last few months, and that's why he had thought she was the one. "'Let's save ourselves until we're sure,'" he grumbled.

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"Seriously, Val, you need to get a hobby or something. It can't be good for you spending so much time alone." Valerie looked sideways at her friend and smiled. "I don't mind spending time by myself, you know that." "I know you say you don't mind, but I still think it can't be good for you." Like a spy resisting interrogation, Lucinda would stubbornly repeat her point over and over until the opposing party cracked and subjected themselves to her will. Valerie had known her long enough to realise this and accepted that it was just part of Lucinda's individual charm.

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She only had one night. One night that would have to last her a lifetime and she knew that the risk was worth it. He had agreed to meet her; but it was for just one night. This one night would be the first and only time she would see and serve the man that she loved and adored; the man that owned her; mind, body, heart and soul.

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After my heartbeat slowed, I could finally feel myself getting to a dryer state. I was covered in my own sweat and wetness, but now that the lovemaking was done, I was beginning to cool off. For the first time that night I could hear the ceiling fan lazily spinning overhead. I already missed seeing Logan over me and hearing his heavy breathes in my ear for what seemed like for hours. I don't know how long we had been fucking, but we did it until we exhausted ourselves. With dewy skin and a still wet pussy, I got out of bed and reached for my panties.

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"Hey. Wake up." Someone was shaking her shoulder. Jenny Dunn came back to herself and realized it was Dan Myer, the foreman of the tree-planting crew she had signed on with for the summer.

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