Your erotic stories

When I got out of the Army, I went out on a high, so to speak. As a member of a Special Forces team, I enjoyed not only the duty itself--always in the thick of it, behind enemy lines, flying to this hot spot or that revolution--but I was proud of myself. I did my duty, served my country, maybe saved a few lives (by taking out a few terrorists). 

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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If it weren't for her long, lanky legs I would probably be the new sales manager, in fact, well on my way to the top instead of here, on the bottom, as it were. As it turned out, I missed the advancement because of a simple good deed. On the way to my office I stopped to help the new employee. And because of that one altruistic act, my career took a sudden and significant turn, a definite lowering in stature. My position now is quite different than the one I thought I was getting, but, all in all, I have to admit that it turns out to have a few advantages.

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"Oh yes, unh, yes, we can do that, uhh, sure, tomorrow, ahh, three thirty, uhh, okay, see you then, uhhh...Mariss' you lil' devil!" Andrea Vaughn snapped the phone shut and slid forward in her high backed leather chair. It had become increasingly difficult to discuss terms with a potential advertiser while her lover/partner was between her legs licking her pussy.

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1. A shudder runs through my body and quickly evolves into an uncontrollable shake. I couldn't turn back now even if I wanted to. Perhaps just five minutes earlier, but not anymore. Her hand is gliding over me and setting every bit of skin it touches on fire. My lust is violently taking control, and she knows it. We both know it. It is not the first time.

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I breathed on my new chromed nametag and polished it on my sleeve. I had been promoted: Sergeant Lincoln Lovel. I attached it to my blue uniform shirt, checked myself out one more time in the mirror, and walked outside to the police car in my driveway. Life is good. My utility belt gleamed, newly polished; my buttons all glittered; even my service pistol shone like it was gold-plated. And I had sergeant's stripes on my sleeves!

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She is dancing with her friends in a club. The crowd is hyped up on the upbeat dance music, their bodies moving silhouettes, writhing rhythmically, bumping, grinding. It's pitch dark except for the intermittent movement of a great many colored strobe lights, the sparkle off the shiny disco ball dispersed across various surfaces in the room. She came here with a group of friends, guys and girls alike, celebrating the start of the weekend after a grueling workweek.

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My name is Jeff and when I was 18, after graduating high school and before starting college, I went to Italy by myself to do some solo traveling for a few weeks before meeting up with friends later in the trip. I had learned a bunch of Italian in high school, and was looking forward to immersing myself in the language to really learn it.

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Graphic lesbian sex, questionable consent, and...well...blood-drinking. Also more than likely entirely derivative, albeit subconsciously. If any of that disturbs you, please skip this one. Comments welcome!

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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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