Your erotic stories

The muscle car jammed to a stop, pavement ripping into tires, making a shriek only slightly louder than, say, a 13-inch masonry blade tearing through highway concrete. Choking slightly as acrid smoke of burning rubber washed over me, I ran to the driver's window and quickly negotiated a ride.

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I waited eagerly for you at the door. Peeking through the small windows hoping you wouldn't see me before you got inside the door. The suit I wore was driving me crazy...so tight and hot. My skin couldn't breathe at all and I was getting sweaty. It felt like the 10 min it normally took you to get home from work was taking far too long.

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Sun, sand, and silence. The beach was gloriously empty. Susan had been coming to this stretch of the Côte d'Ivoire for years. It was her retreat from the whirl of business life. The pavillon was humble by modern standards -- only a few rooms, with aging fitments -- but its rustic charm somehow enhanced rather than reduced its appeal. It was a family-run affair: well, it had been. The concierge had mentioned a change of ownership when she'd arrived yesterday afternoon.

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"You need something, Maryann?" "Could I have something for pain?" Her voice was small and hesitant. "I'll check. If you can, I'll bring it and then let it take effect and then," Sharon Caswell, R.N., paused with a whimsical smile of her face, "we'll do your bath." Maryann Hollander sort of laughed and then groaned, "Sharon don't make me laugh, it hurts."

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Lori walked into the conference room with confidence, swinging her hips with each step. Her boss, Ryan, gazed at her legs as she strode past him, her heels clicking loudly on the floor. She took a seat next to his, crossing her legs with a rasp of fabrics as her black pencil skirt slid over her nylons. The meeting chairs were leather, cozy, and the large table was glass. Sitting next to Lori, Ryan had an excellent view of her legs and that's the way he liked it.

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Damon: I'll bet you'll get up to some trouble in Cabo. I smirked at the text that flashed up on our chat-log from the computer screen. He was always teasing me. Ashleigh: No trouble. At least not the good kind of trouble. I'm going with my boyfriend don't forget. There was a pause, and while I anticipated his next words, I took a sip of the vodka soda I was prone to drinking while I spent my online hours chatting with my favorite virtual stranger, DamonX.

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Katie hummed to herself as she strolled down the hallway, her small arms holding a large basket of laundry braced against her stomach. As she reached to door to the laundry room, she pinned the basket to the wall as she dug for her key in her pocket. As she produced the tiny key, she lifted a knee to help her shaking arm bear the weight of the encumbering load as she struggled to slip it into the door. As the towering basket tipped to the side, a sock fell off onto the floor.

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So, this is it, I thought to myself. I had not told my wife of this plan, of course. It was not something that I cared to share with her. Then again, I didn't share much at all with her anymore, except for our last names. She had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with my "kinky stuff". That included spanking her, tying her up, and generally having my way with her. She was much more conservative than I turned out to be.

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It was a cold winter night. I was standing in my closet with a towel wrapped around my chest, drying my wet body after a shower. I stood there wondering which pajamas to wear when suddenly I felt two hands grabbing my breasts. A warm body embraced me from behind. I didn't have to turn around to figure out who it was. Her warm breath on the skin of my neck was enough to know.

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Alice van der Poole loved her boyfriend. Really, she did. Ben was perfectly handsome, perfectly sweet, perfectly... bland. Every kiss was preceded with a gentle, "May I kiss you?" and followed by a whispered, "You're so beautiful." At night, Ben would tell her how precious she was, how delicate and sweet and lovely. His fragile, perfect little rose. Alice wanted to scream.

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