Your erotic stories

The morning rush had already been hectic, and squeezing through a throng of people equally hell bent on making the same train, to the same station, at the same time; Amy Lynn Steele felt glad to just have a seat as she plunked herself down on the hard plastic and watched the outskirts of Boston zip past. She had done it now for the past sixty five days, and while she was beginning to get used to the routine, she was also getting used to seeing the same people aboard the crowded train.

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The interview is scheduled in a few minutes as I step out of the elevator on the twenty third floor of the newest office building in the city. An ambitious and demanding executive is seeking an assistant, making me aware that I'm about to face a perfectionist, deadline driven workaholic. At precisely 10-00 am, a slim, well-groomed secretary ushers me into a plush and opulent office and closes the door behind her.

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I can be rather lazy at times, especially when I'm doing a routine job I've done lots of times. The current job was making out the Department Manager's monthly report. I just had to cut and paste sections out of the previous monthly report and the various divisional reports and that was it. I whipped through it and posted it off to the DM with time to spare. Once I had his formal approval I'd just send out copies to everyone concerned in time for the big monthly meetings the next day.

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Jennifer looked out of the large glass windows at the front of the reception into the bleak January afternoon. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun, and with the economic climate so uncertain she'd decided not to visit the travel agents over the Christmas period like she normally did. No, she'd just have to wait a few more months and hope it was a good summer. She accidentally kicked the gym bag she kept under her desk, at least she still kept herself in shape, even if she was a bit paler than she'd ideally like.

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When it was time for me to go to university my father arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. They lived in this real big place, quite posh, it was. Aunt did all the housework herself and she was an excellent cook. They had a gardener in once a fortnight to keep the gardens and lawn under control.

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I thrust my cock deep into Kate's slippery wet pussy. As her internal muscles clamped hard round my erection, I groaned as I came. I spurted my load of sperm deep inside her tight little wet pussy. Kate and I have been married for ten years now. I am aged 34 and Kate is 30. We both have good professional jobs, which between us earn a good income. We haven't any children yet, although I know that Kate sometimes feels a little broody.

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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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I'm 32 years old. My divorce was finalized about six months ago (no children). I consider myself to be good looking man, am in good shape, have a good high paying job, and somehow managed to keep my large house in the divorce. Prior to getting married, I had had sex with two women. My wife and I had a decent enough sex life before things fell apart, though certainly nothing interesting enough to write about.

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I work for a very large consulting firm. Most of my assignments last several months and are typically out of town, requiring me to travel each week. Last summer, I was given an assignment in Atlanta where I had to spend several months as an interim executive. I vividly remember the first day I arrived at my client. The receptionist - a perky, young, beautiful blonde named Chelsea -- greeted me and showed me to the office I'd be using during my multi-month long assignment.

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Most secretaries would be fired for wearing a low-cut blouse like hers. Most secretaries wouldn't get away with a tight pencil-skirt and the almost-visible suspenders around her thighs either. Most secretaries, however, aren't married to their bosses – and today is their anniversary. There are flowers on Lana's desk when she comes in, high heels clicking on the oak floor. That gets a smile from her, which isn't always easy this early in the morning; it's still dark outside.

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