Your erotic stories

Matthew's heart began to race as he saw the text message from his wife Michelle pop up on his iPhone. The last time he waited up for his wife, his ass had been sore for a week... Of course, in reality he loved every minute of it, but much like her seemingly-innocent text message, it was something that was kept close-knit between the two of them.

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My name is Jake. I'm about 5' 10" and fairly skinny. I like to stay in shape by running, but have never been into weight lifting or building muscle. That said, I like to think that I'm not scrawny and am fairly easy on the eyes. I should also say that I am one of those people who doesn't believe that anyone is completely straight or completely gay, but if you asked me which I was I would certainly tell you straight.

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Standing in line at the meat counter of the little family owned market, I couldn't keep my eyes off the attractive young woman waiting ahead of me. She was wearing Capri pants that perfectly displayed her fine young form. Over the years I had met far more interesting women in food markets, fabric stores and garden centers than in bars. "Have you shopped here before?" Not terribly original, but it was a start.

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Everything felt cold to Hannah, in these last few minutes of her life. The wind up on the roof blew sharply, swirling and gusting in a way that whipped her long blonde hair into her face and cut right through her thin dress like she wasn't even wearing it. She wished she didn't feel the cold;

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"Grace arrived late last night. Poor thing was tired after the red eye flight from Toronto," Mia said taking a seat at the breakfast table. At those words, James dropped the muffin he was about to eat into his coffee mug. The resulting splash sprinkled not only on the pale blue damask table cloth, but his shirt as well. Trying to cover up his flub, he responded to his sister's comment.

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Ok, so here's the deal. My name is Marissa Adams, I'm 18 years old and I am a maid at a hotel/casino in Las Vegas. I'm not complaining, pay's good, my co-workers are great and I meet very interesting people and a few stars. Just last week Shaq was staying in the NBA Suite. But that's no where near the best part of my perfect job.

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Beside me she breathed, and giggled, and glanced over at me sideways. Her cheeks were flushed and a light sheen of sweat made her shine - her shoulders, her clavicle, her breasts with their rose-tipped nipples. I saw her stomach muscles contract as he slid deeper into her, and her fingers found mine, and my body tingled. My chest, my stomach tingled as her fingertips sought my palm and pressed down.

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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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He hands her a towel as she steps out of the shower, taking her hand and helping her down as though she were a princess exiting a carriage. Steam obscures her body, her porcelain skin red from the heat of the water. Without a word, she presses her body against his and he holds her in a contented embrace, savouring the scent of her shampoo on her wet hair. They breathe each other in, enjoying the warmth of skin on skin.

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A cold and rainy Saturday in February. The rain is unusually heavy. Instead of the usual "mizzle" that mists the air with tiny, slow-falling droplets, it's pouring in sheets, pattering against the window. It fills my bedroom with a dull and depressing sound. My mood is equally bleak. I'm snuggled in bed, shivering and miserable. I have the heat maxed but it's taking forever for the room to warm up.

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