Your erotic stories

"Tomorrow's the big day, right Mom?" "Absolutely, Megan. We need to get these two guys on our side regarding the Bankhead drilling project. They're the last two pieces of the puzzle as far as I'm concerned. You know what to do?" "Anything they say. Or want," Megan replied. Amanda smiled. She was the thirty nine year old CEO of GIC Corporation, an energy supplier throughout the northern United States. Their scientists recently discovered an oil and natural gas supply that would keep them in business for decades.

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I sat in my office and tried not to think about the last class I had just taught. I enjoy teaching, and this summer's group of bright, eager young faces was especially fun, a break from my regular routine of working in my field. One face was just too bright though. Rebecca. Tall and willowy, with long auburn hair and a graceful figure, she was just too attentive, too nice, and too eager.

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"Shut UP!" Marcy realized she was making a mistake as soon as she said it, but a whole semester's worth of pent-up frustration and irritation just bubbled out of her mouth and she couldn't stop it anymore. "God, I am so sick of you telling me how fucking great you are! 'Oh, I'm so hot.' 'Oh, I totally had that guy eating out of my hand.' 'Oh, don't you love how this outfit looks on me?' 'Oh, I could have any man I want.' You are such a vain, stuck-up, self-obsessed...bitch!"

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"I've seen the way you look at me," I whispered in her right ear, my body brushing against her back, my nose flirting with her straight hair, my mouth hanging an inch away from her skin, my own flesh surprised that I had the will to halt its road to her neck and achingly begging me to tilt forward just a little bit more.

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She is not classically beautiful. Her face is rather flat with bland cheekbones, her lips do not have the fullness of a true beauty and her nose is rather podgy with slightly flared nostrils. She is though stunning to look at because of her eyes. They are large and delightfully, almond shaped in a deep, onyx green colour.

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Linda Jones was in the grocery store picking up a few things when she saw her friend Lisa Miller and her son Tommy. Lisa was supposed to come over later in the afternoon with a few friends for bridge club. "Hi Linda," Lisa called out, waving at her in the produce aisle. "Tommy, you remember Mrs. Jones don't you? Be a good boy and say hello."

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Meredith was excited. She had lived all of her life in a small town; only ever catching echoes of other cultures, with no direct experience. Now she had been given the opportunity to travel abroad and have firsthand experience of another culture. At least, as much as one could between lectures at a professional conference. It was intimidating and exhilarating at the same time.

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Cathy was shivering as she hurried to her Mustang in the school parking lot. She ignored all the whistles and comments from the students as the cold wind swirled around and blew her skirt up revealing her slim legs and pink panties. After starting the car she put on the heater but it blew nothing but cold air. She wished that she lived in a warmer climate than New Jersey.

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Winnie and Amy had been in the strip club for about 30 minutes observing the clientele and getting the occasional lap dance to get themselves more in the mood for what they had planned that night. As part of a "getting over our ex's" night, they planned to find a single business traveler and lure him back to the suite they booked for themselves at the nearby Sheraton to strip for him and maybe have some fun.

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The hardest part of a marathon is often around Miles 20 and 21. It's the terrible intersection where the body is exhausted and the mind knows that the finish line is still miles ahead. Lauren hit that low point around noon. She was in good condition, her small body lean and toned, but the day was simply too much. It was much hotter than expected, over 80 degrees even at the starting line, and she had been struggling since Mile 14. She was too hot, too dehydrated, and had pushed too hard for her first marathon.

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