Your erotic stories

Like most college students, I've found it necessary to have a part-time job to make it through the month. My parents don't have a lot of money, so I've pretty much been out on my own since I was 18. I've been working since 15. But that's beside the point.Currently, I'm employed at a local ice cream place, and almost everyone I work with is in high school. Almost.

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I am a 32 year old woman. My name is Tiffany. I have two school-age kids and have been married since I was 18 years old. Even though I have two kids, I have been told many times that I don't look it and get compliments on my 5'4" 38-24-36 body all the time. This is my story.

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We lay there for a while and dozed in and out. I woke to a hard on that was being stroked. When I looked up, Sara had both our cocks in her hand and a mischievous smile on her face. I suggested that we move to the bedroom. On the way Sara said that sex with the two of us had been fantastic and better than she had ever imagined.

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The heading at the top of the screen simply reads: "What is your ultimate fantasy?" I don't know how I found this website but I have been staring at the screen for the past ten minutes too afraid to start filling out the survey. On the home page it states that once you fill in all of the blanks the company will write a personalized story based on what you have described as your ultimate fantasy.

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I needed a vacation and a tropical island was the best remedy for the mid-winter blues. Any island would do, as long as it had warm, sandy beaches. So I booked a trip to Jamaica and before I knew it, I was on a plane headed south away from the snow and the cold.

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The first time Kevin Roach was mistaken for Tommy Ross he was in the White Lion. The mistake's maker approached him when he was at the bar, getting in a round of drinks for himself and his workmates. She had bobbed red hair and neat, pretty features and she wore a T-shirt displaying her allegiance to the rock band White Noise.

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Fuck me! Fuck me!" April's words made my cock pulse as she hissed into my ear, her finger nails digging deeper into my back with each thrust of my hips. The room filled with the wet slapping sound of our sweaty bodies colliding as she urged me on. "Harder," she moaned, her legs wrapped tightly around my body.

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In my experience it is more men than women who are into peeing. But in my case it was quite the opposite -- I never fantasized about it and if you had asked me I would have been disgusted. Here is how that changed. Firstly let me tell you something about myself. My name is Peter and I'm 35. This happened when I was 30. I'm 5'11, with dark hair and a muscular body.

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I sat on the wide polished piano bench. Late afternoon sun cast striped shadows as it streamed through half opened blinds; golden motes of dust danced silently in the air. He sat, as he always did, next to me. Years ago, I had begged my mother to learn to play – we had a baby grand at home – and she finally relented.

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I teach at a small university in the Midwest, in a small town, the usual place where gossip spreads faster than the common cold. Those of you who live in one know exactly what I mean. My department moved into our new building after a year of construction and got two new secretaries about the same time. Our secretaries used to be spread all over the building, but now were concentrated in one room.

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