Your erotic stories

He met her at a regional training conference being held at a well known, North Florida resort. A number of attendees had taken the resort van to a restaurant a few miles away from the main conference center. He was sitting at the small restaurant bar having a drink; she came up and took the seat next to him and started a conversation. From his perspective, she was not the type of woman he would pursue or attempt to seduce.

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Lorraine Marie Burk checked her e-mail every day before going to bed; no one ever really mailed her anything personal. But she did use it for reminders of special TV programs she wanted to drop in on and other special dates of interest. She was going through the inbox this particular day and spied a message with slut written in the subject field.

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It all started simply enough. We had met on a personals site. Each of us had placed an ad, and we eventually got into contact with each other. Though our background and situations were different, we each saw something in the other's profile that piqued the curiosity. We made contact and began chatting.

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I am nervous as I walk up the stairwell. The sound of my shoes scuffing each stair reflects off the dingy once-white walls of the narrow hallway like an insistent warning, telling me to turn around and walk away with every step. Yet I continue, pursuing my chosen course with the same timid determination that has carried me through this day. Ever since I came out to my car and found the note tucked underneath my wiper blade.

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I was born into a working class family that was always struggling to pay the bills. My three siblings and I never had any luxuries. Mom and Dad divorced when I was five, and Dad disappeared. We all worked at part time jobs; there was no talk of me going to college. But in my case something extraordinary happened when Dad's wiggly little tadpole met up with Mom's so porous membrane—as Emeril would say, "BAM": a perfect combination of genes, DNA, or whatever produced a female of exceptional beauty.

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Alex settled back comfortably in his seat. It was late and he was hungry and happy to finally be heading home. The night was pleasant and the train reasonably empty, so with a bit of luck he wouldn't have the yammering of idiots on their smart-phones and the mosquito buzzing of their music. He was relieved to note that apart from a young couple sitting opposite him, the carriage was empty, and they were just chatting between themselves.

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She is at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes from lunch, lost in the reverie of thought, she barely hears the squeak of the front door as it opens and closes in the front room. She feels a soft breath at her back of her neck, next a nibble and a kiss. Attempting to turn around to kiss her husband hello, she is stopped and a blindfold covers her eyes.

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She felt a sharp tug on her dark hair from behind as her head was jerked back. The suddenness of it almost caused her to fall down. She was able to maintain her balance as her body was pulled back sharply until it hit the chest of the man behind her. Another hand reached around her. He roughly took her left breast in his big hand and squeezed it. Suzanne emitted a gasp as the pain and firm control he exerted over her was combined with an erotic jolt that sent tremors through her body.

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I knew I was taking a huge risk. To change the game at this late date was to risk ruining a very adequate relationship. But, I knew I deserved more than adequate. I wanted so much more. I suppose a little background is in order. I am 43 years old, working in an office, I have a "boyfriend" that I see three to four times a week.

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"Pick up your seating assignment at the front table, please," said the young man in the white shirt and black slacks. The badge on his chest proclaimed his name to be Chad. Hazel was sure his nickname in high school was probably "Pizza Face" or something similar. The poor guy really needed a dermatologist, or one of those miracle creams they sell on television for severe acne. As Hazel approached the table, Chad smiled brightly at her.

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