Your erotic stories

I enjoy working late. I am a transcriptionist, and can get more done when the hub-bub of a packed law office has quieted. One thing though, this old office building is about as tightly insulated as a bridge, and creaks as badly as my forty-mumble year old knees. I find myself getting up from my desk at least once an hour to see if somehow an earthquake hasn't hit, as my geology professor called it, the Laurentian Plateau.

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Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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My job is pretty boring. Most people say that, and most people truly believe it. None of them have to deal with what I do though. I give trumpet lessons at a place called Up the Scale. All day I deal with zit-covered, teenage brats that are taking trumpet lessons at Mommy and Daddy's expense. The worse they play the trumpet, the more they come back. It's like their parents are deaf or something.

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PRELUDE Louise Connor took me by the hand and led me over the doorway with the mistletoe hanging overhead. She took me in her arms and kissed me driving her tongue deep into my mouth. Then she released the lip lock on me and dropped to her knees in front of me. I remained still as Louise unbuckled my belt and unfastened my trousers. She took her time and then lowered them down past my knees. I could feel my cock rising to the occasion and my boxer shorts tented in evidence of my excitement.

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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 scent of cooked turkey still lingered in kitchens across America and the shops and stores were already decorated for Christmas; the coffee shop where Carol sat being no exception. Disconsolately sipping her latte, she didn't feel in a very celebratory mood. The promise of employment that had motivated her to leave home and move to the city hadn't materialized and now she was homesick, low on funds and still job hunting.

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When I first met Mark I was totally unaware that his wife, Eileen, worked at the college with my wife, Susan. It was not until a few weeks later when we all came together at a faculty party. I am Tony, age 25, and Susan is 39. We first met in college when I was 18 and she was 32. I was a horny teenage accounting major and she was in her first year at the college as an assistant professor of economics. We hit it off like an atom bomb when I took her class in advanced macroeconomics and within two weeks of class beginning I was fucking her daily. It was like every teenage boy's dream happening to me -- an older sexy woman with big tits and an unbelievable pussy for me to fuck. 

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PRELUDE Liz Connors was seated between her two co-anchors for the morning news in Brad Jefferson's dressing room. The other news anchor Vern Wilson had joined them. Liz was still dressed in her mini dress that showed off her gorgeous legs. She was nervous but excited at the same time as the two handsome men caressed her shapely legs.

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Before Penny married Mark she had been married before when she was a young, innocent twenty-year old beauty to a wealthy man twenty years her senior who loved and spoiled her with everything she ever wanted or needed both physically and sexually. They had two daughters, Penelope and Pamela, in the first three years of their marriage who were growing up into beautiful, young girls.

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Have you ever found yourself in a situation, you knew many would consider wrong? No, I'm not talking murder wrong, so calm down, dear reader. I guess to tell this story right; I have to begin at the beginning of my story. A while back (no, I'm not telling you when, as for all I know, the wrong person or people are reading this) I was helping a friend move into her new place. Now, I know, helping a friend move isn't a bad thing, but it was what happened after that was, well, so to speak. My friend had a nice neighbor, a widowed father with three boys: Bobby -- 20, Dawson -- 18, and Elliot -- 12.

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