Your erotic stories

"I wish I could've seen the look on his smug face when the verdict came down." "Yeah, girl, that must've been so nice. I mean, you won, but you also beat that douchebag." Sarah snickered as she sipped her drink. Around the table with her were her three best friends, Amy, Lisa, and Chloe, the quartet celebrating her recent victory in court.

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He lay beside her, lost in a trance. Her fingernails trailed gently across his skin, so light it sent shivers up his spine. He lay as if dead, transfixed by the thrill of her touch. That entrancing touch, which left him helpless against her will. She continued to draw lazy, slow circles up and down his chest, gently grazing sensitive pierced nipples, running lusciously through a sprinkling of soft hair.

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I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door. I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door. "Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck. "Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.

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I began working with Ms Blake about 18 months ago. It's a fairly straightforward job, a little hectic at times, but what job isn't? Not only did I work daily for her, but there were times when I went beyond the call of duty, not that I minded that in the slightest!

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She woke from dreams where she was trapped in ice, immobile; eyes wide open but only perceiving the outside world as multicoloured shadows. She tried to stretch her arms, to reach out to the side of the bed for some familiar object, or even up to the pillow, just to be certain she was anchored again to reality, but she could not move.

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Mark sat in his cubicle, hard at work. The monthly report on the department's finances, the production of which he had involvement in, was to be completed by Monday. Becky and Stan had already told him they were almost done with their part. No way am I going to mess us up. "Attention everyone," came a stern voice from the front of the office.

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Around two o'clock on the afternoon of her nineteenth birthday, Katie was bored. She perched on the arm of her Dad's favourite chair and gazed out of the window at the quiet street where she had grown up. The house was on a T junction so Katie could look straight down a stretch of road for about a hundred yards, past the neat front gardens, to where the street curved out of sight. Nothing moved in the sunshine. The whole street seemed to be taking a summer afternoon nap.

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