Your erotic stories

She was nestled up next to him tightly when he woke up. She enjoyed his warm embrace while she slept, but it was pure torture for him. His cock was harder than ever and ready to cum. He fought off the urge to hump her as she slept. He knew better. With every breath he took in the scent of her. He struggled desperately as his pent up sexuality fought for control and, of course, release. He knew she was a light sleeper and she expected him to be there when she woke up on his days off. He wondered how many hours he would have to lay here aching and struggling with his urges. Getting hard, going soft and then getting hard again. Over and over.

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"No, not for over two years." "Any encounters within this period?" The soothing hum of an air conditioner drifts through the office. "...yeah." follows a moment's hesitation in the girl's response. "If you care to say so, roughly, how recently was this?" A rustling of paperwork fills the moment's silence as the young woman averts her gaze.

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I step from the elevator onto the second floor of the city hotel. The corridor is empty, beige and clean cut like something lifted straight out of a seventies ideal home magazine. I adjust the black silk scarf as I walk along towards your room, trying to make it look casual. My brand new stilettos dig into the dense pile carpet and form a curious counterpoint to my low slung combat pants and white vest. I like the way the heels make me walk.

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I stood in the shower, allowing the hot water to caress my body in an attempt to wake myself up. The thought of another long day at work wasn't helping the situation, but at least it was Friday. "Get through today and enjoy the weekend," I thought.

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"Happy Birthday." you say with a smile. Sliding a small box across the restaurant table. "What is it?" I ask. Unaware of your plan. "Your fantasy." Your eyes flash an erotic pulse as you toy with your hair. My heart skips a beat as I try to digest what you've just said. I stare at the box and then to you wondering if what you're telling me is real. After a second or two I grasp the box to pull it towards me, but you tighten your grip on it and lean in.

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You walk straight through the hotel reception and head over to the elevators. Pushing the button you wait for it to arrive. You are wearing the tight blue jeans red hoodie that you know I like. Underneath is the black underwear from one of the pictures you sent me when we first started talking to each other.

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After a long week at work, I think I was just as happy not to have a date: changing into a t-shirt and sweatpants, ordering a pizza, opening a beer and watching the ballgame on tv sounded like a pretty good plan. Then in the top of the eighth inning, I heard a loud crash from the apartment next door.

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It's a bit of a librarian look, the way I wear my hair at work. All coiled up on my head, and stuck through with several of those Japanese-looking hair spikes. Not a strand is out of place, and the hair is wound and wrapped tightly into a bun roughly the size of one of those Kaiser rolls the bun it makes is easily the size of one of those Kaiser rolls.

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Mom and I hadn't been up to visit Aunt Sandy, Uncle Bob and Cindy in three years, but I hardly had to wonder what Cindy would look like: our mothers were identical twins, and Cindy looked just like me: tall, slim, redheaded, and small-chested. Well, not exactly: seeing her with her hair cut short was a surprise. So that's how I'd look with short hair, I thought.

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1 'Wow, this is some paradise huh?' My wife asked as she lay down on the sunbed and took in our surroundings; we lay next to the swimming pool, surrounded by coconut trees, only a stone's throw from the tropical, white sand and blue-green sea. 'Yeah,' I agreed as I had a quick scan of our surroundings, taking in all of the bikini-clad women as they walked around in front of us; 'this place certainly has some great views.'

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