Your erotic stories

Jordan was being tortured. It was the day before Valentine's and Glen was torturing her with her gift. He wasn't torturing her with intrigue and suspense. On the contrary, she knew exactly what she was getting. She had known for a long time, and he had purchased it a long time ago. It arrived a full two weeks before Valentine's Day. But rather than give it to her, he taunted her with it. He constantly flaunted it in front of her but wouldn't let her have it.

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Heather let herself into the house, kicking off her high-heels the second she set foot inside the door. She was taking the afternoon off; getting things ready for what she was hoping would be a night to remember. The suit jacket was next to go, tossed haphazardly across the arm of the couch. She would need it again later but for now, it'd be too warm.

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I was standing in front of my tiny, jumbled closet looking in vain for suitable clothes to take to New Orleans. It had been sooo easy down in the Caribbean because all I needed was a couple pieces of floss to wear over my itty bitty titties and Brazilian waxed coochie. Rich, poor, who knew when you're half naked and dripping wet?

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Marisol listened to the soft rustle of the palm leaves in the morning breeze. She rolled over, turning her face from the wall to the window. The soft morning light and the slight breeze made the open window look like a post card to paradise. She loved coming here, to Costa Rica. Her husband Paul scored them a last minute trip just around Valentine's Day.

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Liz sat on the couch with her long legs crossed, the high heel on her raised foot rocking back and forth with the nervous energy of her toes moving. Her short tight skirt was up high on her thighs, the tops of her thigh high stockings showing a strip of bare skin above them. Lisa grinned and said to her roommate, "You're motor is running. Any reason or just general horniness?"

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