Your erotic stories

I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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My boss, Mr. Adams, calls me a nanny. He's pretty old school about things so I just let it go. I prefer the term, au pair, because it sounds so much more exotic and important. Mrs. Adams is probably the one who has the best grip on reality. She just calls me her "help." I started working for the Adams' to help pay my way through business college. Then about three months into a graphics designer degree, I decided, "Fuck it."

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"What's the matter with you guys? You got lead in your ass? We're never going to win a goddamn thing if you don't pick up your game! Tom was screaming at the football team as they practiced for the upcoming game. His red hair glinted in the bright sunlight so that his head seemed on fire, matching his fiery temper. Most of the team looked sheepishly at me, knowing this was not their day.

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Nothing makes you feel quite like a loser then spending your Saturday night trying to impress women, and ending the night at the bar downing drinks with your gay friend. That was my life for nearly a year. I would get dressed up and head to the bar at about 8:00. I tried to talk to the women who came in. I thought I was pleasant.

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I've always been a pretty big horn dog when it comes to women. Since high school, I've tried every trick in the book to meet, bed, and enjoy the ladies. I got married in my mid twenties, screwed around mercilessly on my wife, and divorced in my early thirties, after my wife caught me fucking my secretary, bent over my desk at work. Problem was it was the third time my wife caught me cheating, and strike three was the last straw.

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"30 seconds until this lift is closed," called out the lift attendant as the two skiers made their way through the corral to board. Taking position, they sat down as the seat swung around behind them and shuffled close to one another as they brought down the safety bar. Glancing back, Dean noted that they were the last ones that got on the lift. "I guess this is the last run for the day then," he said, smiling at Beth. "Probably a good thing too given how cold it is, I don't want my dick turning into a popsicle!"

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Not many people would view being a parking attendant as a glamorous job. Certainly Nate didn't expect it to be the kind of job where he'd get much pussy. He expected, and got, long, lonely hours, a stupid shirt with a logo on it, a tiny booth, and no heater. So far the September nights had been kind to him, but God only knew what it would be like when the really bad weather hit.

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There's something a little Zen to the game of sex. The sound of one hand clapping? How about the fact that you never meet a hot woman when you're trying? I don't believe in pheromones, generally, but it's obvious women can smell desperation on a man. From a long way off.

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From my very first lecture at university, I instantly knew I wanted Mark. Then again, nearly everybody did. He was stereotypically good looking: 6ft 2, dark and toned. He was also my contract law lecturer. Forbidden fruit. I could never pay attention in his classes, I'd be focusing on anything but him to keep my cock from being rock hard and causing embarrassment.

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When my fiancé and I graduated from college, times were tough. There wasn't a single employer that was hiring. For a while I waited tables as we struggled to pay basic bills. After putting in hundreds of applications, I finally received an invitation for an interview from a company called QJ Productions.

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