Your erotic stories

It's unusual for me to escort a prisoner alone, but we are in the middle of a shift change, it's a quiet night on the cell block, and besides the other guards like to bust my balls about equal rights and this gave them the opportunity to crack a few jokes. I'm the only female guard that works this cellblock, and getting picked on is just another hazard in the work place. Frank Pascua, who is leaving for the night, wished me good luck as he pulled on his jacket.

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The air was warm and the morning sunshine streamed through my window and across my bed. My eyes slowly came open and I yawned into my pillow. I stretched thoroughly; my fingers, my back, my legs, and blinked myself awake before flipping over onto my back. About this time, I noticed that I was suffering from that most terrible affliction: Morning Wood.

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Ted and Carl grinned down at the woman on the floor in front of them, cutting off either of her exit ways. The female cop glared at the two escaped cons that she'd helped put away, not a touch of fear in her eyes. "Get out," she said, trying to take the position of power, even though she was lying on her own living room rug, "They'll catch you eventually anyway, but there's no reason for you to be here.

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It all started one evening at our local bookstore. I was browsing through the racks, Rachel having wandered off to glance at the science fiction section. I noticed an autobiography by a well-known porn actress and picked it up. The cover featured the author looking very hot in a black corset and matching boots. Rachel returned while I was reading the blurbs on the back cover. She saw what I was looking at and chuckled.

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Helen was a little surprised when the doorbell rang at precisely nine a.m., exactly when the contractor had told her that the workers would arrive to build her new deck. She was even more surprised when she opened the door and saw two young men who couldn't be more than twenty years old.

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My friend, George, the sleeping car attendant, teases me with a double entendre private nickname. He calls me "All-Aboard Betty." Let me explain. I have necessarily drawn George into a conspiracy because I need him to achieve my purpose during periodic journeys aboard The Frontier, a transcontinental passenger train. When I'm aboard the Frontier becomes instead the Piece Train. (Apologies to Yusuf Islam. The devil made me do that.)

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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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It started with my wife Pam. She has a love for cock that I have never witnessed before in anyone else. She is constantly playing with mine, in public and private; she can't keep her hands off of it. She loves to tease me, loves to watch me grow hard, and loves to suck endlessly on it afterwards. She takes great pleasure in slurping my cock in the most delicious ways and always insists that I watch while she performs her magic.

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She watched him from the kitchen as she prepared a pitcher of martinis for all of them. He did not have traditional good looks but he was appealing, especially to her. He flirted with her constantly and although she knew it was all in good fun, she could not help but be turned on by him. He had this confidence about him that she found so incredibly sexy.

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I was fixing dinner when I heard David pull into the driveway. He had only recently begun working at a large accounting firm. He seemed to really like this place. It was close by, his co-workers were friendly and the pay was good. David walked in, threw down his briefcase, grabbed me and gave me a long deep kiss. He told me that Mike, one of his co-workers, had invited us to sail on his boat next weekend with his wife Jenny.

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