Your erotic stories

It was 5:30 Thursday afternoon when Roger Hancock walked into Megan Bishop's office. "Yes, Roger?" she said to her 28 year-old mailroom clerk, not even looking up from her work. "I thought you'd left for the day." Miss Bishop had everything a woman could want -- money, power, good looks, great figure. She was president of The Bishop Company, doing what was generally perceived as a stellar job running the business she'd inherited from her father.

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"You're late." The steely tone in Amy's voice let Graham know he was in trouble, that was her "Don't-mess-with-me" voice. "I'm sorry, traffic was murder." Amy Welles didn't like people being late, it was one of her Pet Peeves. Graham knew full well it was a flimsy excuse and Amy would call him on it.

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John inserted the key into his front door as quietly as he could. He slipped inside, putting his laptop case down ever so gently, and closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, hello you! There she was, padding barefoot down the stairs. She did not come to him; she stopped three steps up, so that her womanly pubis was level with his mouth, so that he had to look up to her, almost look up her.

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Sue walked into the bar feeling a little self-conscious. She nervously ran her hand through her shoulder length red hair, pulling on the curls slightly, and allowing the curls to spring back, looser than before. It had been a long time since she walked into a bar alone. That, and the fact that she felt both overdressed and underdressed. She was wearing the outfit he, her husband Michael, had set out for her—her black and white v-neck dress.

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Here we are arguing. Again. It's gotten bad lately. I don't know if it's the stress in his new job, or the mounting debt from my student loans. One thing is for sure, I've raised my voice one too many times, and now he's shut down. It infuriates me when he does this, but at least I managed to talk him into a walk. A long excruciatingly quiet walk.

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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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It all started with a simple statement. A promise perhaps. They were laying in bed one night during the week after she had just come off of his lap from one of her good girl spankings and rewards she always craved. She looked up at him, a smile across her face and at that moment, he told her that he had something special planned for them this weekend.

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Thursday Night. I head home from work after another long day at the office. Fortunately, the trains are on time; I'm tired and hungry. I could use a hot meal and a shower, but, it's Thursday. I walk up to my apartment door and unlock it. I know what's waiting for me. It's Thursday night. It's her night. I enter my apartment and she's there waiting for me. She's as beautiful as ever and as naked as the day God graced us with her presence on Earth.

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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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