Your erotic stories

The following story is fictitious, of an explicit and adult nature. This story is not meant to be viewed by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, offended by adult material or such material is barred by the standards of your community, please leave this page now.

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"How did I get myself into this mess?" I thought to myself as I lay there on the bottom bunk, in my new home for awhile. I jail cell in the State Penitentiary, with 'Terry the Terror' as my new roommate. My nightmare started three days ago when I decided to buy some weed. I had went to a seedy part of town just looking for a little weed, nothing more.

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Vlad was doing his rounds at the St. Bathory Home for Wayward Girls. Parents sent their girls here when they threw up their hands and said; you deal with this slut. The Headmistress of St. Bathory's promised these parents that she would return only obedient, respectable girls that the parents could be proud of. There was much unsaid in that promise. Much unsaid indeed.

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Hi! My name's Ellie. I used to live pretty wild and stupid, but then I had a baby and I decided to try and be smarter. Inside, though, I'm still as impulsive and hungry as ever. Sometimes to help myself work through my drive without acting out, I sit down to write about it. Today I wanna tell you about Stephen.

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Miranda had been single for just over two weeks. Two glorious weeks of parties, girl-"dates", movies with friends, and relaxing by the pool. It was too cool to swim just yet, but she sure didn't mind putting on a skimpy little suit and flaunting it in front of the new lifeguard as she and her friends tanned on the deck.

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Daisy took her time dressing for the party. She wanted to look sexy and provocative. Her braless tits and hard nipples poked shamelessly through the tight red cotton top cut above her pierced belly button. A tiny black skirt barely covered her ass cheeks. The eye shadow was heavy and the lipstick bright red.

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Thinking back on that first time with Julie was enough to nearly push me over the edge all by itself. As I eased up and stopped at the next traffic light, I slid my hand between my legs and began to slip two fingers inside my leaking pussy. This time, I was so hot that I almost wished someone would see me. The anticipation, the dread, the memory of her sweet young body all combined to put me in that zone where I just needed to cum.

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I'm in bed waiting for you while you brush your teeth, wash your face, all those little personal tasks at the very end of the day. I'm wearing a not-too-interesting light woven cotton shortie top and panties, lying on my back, drifting off to sleep. I know you're naked, it's a hot summer night and you never wear pajamas, anyway. I feel the bed shift when you sit down. "Don't do anything," you say. "Just turn your head away and pretend like I'm not here."

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I sat at my desk today and chatted over messenger. This was pretty normal for me, reaching out to those far away. You were at work today but one of the windows open was a dialogue with you. After half a day of talking about sex, non-consensual sex, resistance play and bondage you had excused yourself for some fresh air. I giggled thinking about the hard bulge you must be trying to conceal in your slacks.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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