Your erotic stories

Alan walked back through the corridor of his school. He was returning to retrieve his jacket that he'd accidentally left behind. So eager to finish the day and rush home, he had been five minutes gone before he was reminded of the absence of his jacket with the cold nipping at him. Now approaching the classroom Alan sighed in relief when the door was still unlocked.

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It was early on a nice spring Saturday and I was checking out all of the young ladies walking up and down the boardwalk as well as the ones on the beach. It is a rough job but someone has to do it. Anyway, I have found retirement to be boring in far too many ways. There is a spot where the boardwalk makes a curve out toward the ocean. This makes it easy to stand in one spot and see the beauties on the beach and the ones on the boardwalk itself. I am a devout ass man so the rear view is always the most appreciated.

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Madison felt a little self-conscience. Somehow her boyfriend, Billy, had talked her into wearing her collegiate cheerleader uniform to the frat party. She had reluctantly agreed because she knew some of the other girls on the team would probably be wearing theirs. Billy had on his football jersey, all the boys wore their number when they were together and out among fellow students, so it helped Madison not feel so alone and awkward.

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He picked up the envelope, knowing what it contained and struggling to figure out how to justify its existence at the front counter to his friends. "Hmmm, this must be the fax I was waiting for at the office yesterday, " he said, "shit, I may have to do some work tonight." His friends groaned, rolling their eyes, commenting on his inability to have fun even while on vacation. He smiled.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Turn. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Turn. Kayden's feet were wearing a path in the floor of her hotel room but she couldn't stop. Conner was going to be there any second. He had already called her a couple of times on his way over to inform her where he was.

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Lisa was nervous. Her last test had come back with a multitude of red marks all over it and a big fat F in the corner. If she failed her algebra class, she would have to go on academic probation, and her GPA might even lower enough that she would lose her scholarship and have to drop out - she couldn't afford the college's exorbitant fees without help, and her parents didn't have any money to pay toward her tuition. She shuffled from foot to foot, dancing nervously on the spot outside her professor's office, waiting for him to invite her inside.

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"What's this?" I say pulling my long silky black hair up and in a loose bun. "I hope you like shrimp scampi, Ms. Lily," Josh offers. He turns from the stove wearing only an apron and drops to his knees and crawls behind me. It's six-thirty p.m. and my houseslut pushes his tongue the length of the crack of my perfectly-tight bottom all the way to small of my back.

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Beatrice got divorced at the age of 28 because her husband left one day and sent a van round to collect his possessions a week later, and then disappeared. Now, 10 years later, she lived alone and worked as a hospital administrator. She'd always been somewhat overweight. Unkind members of her family called her fat and her older brother called her stout, a word she hated. She thought of herself as cuddly, well-covered, and shapely.

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Over the next few weeks I thought so much about the old priests. I wasn't proud of myself and I found myself confessing to my husband about my secret thoughts and excitements. Derek was helpless. I knew it embarrassed him and in a way also humiliated him but I couldn't help that.

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