Your erotic stories

"What the hell do you mean eight hundred bucks?" I practically yelled into the phone. "It's a fucking water pump!" My mechanic gave me some song and dance about having to pull a load of shit off the engine to get to the broken part. "Fuck, dude," I said. "Where the hell am I getting that kind of money?" He gave me some more song and dance.

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"OOOHHHH FUCK I'm CUUUUMMMMMING!" He groaned as she continued to bob up and down on his cock. Her hand was wrapped tightly around him and she was stroking it vigorously as she sucked. I had the video camera filming the event; she squinted slightly as his load of cum shot into her mouth and throat.

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I could hear the faint sound of music emanating from behind the door as I made my way down the hallway. Each step brought me closer as the music became louder and louder. I listened intently as I closed in, but could not make out place the song or the band, writing it off as one of the many independent, no-name artists that Laura always listened to.

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I'm writing this as I watch a copy of a video we made last Saturday afternoon. I should probably erase it, but I just can't seem to do it. We had a softball game, and afterwards I invited the guys over for a swim. Some of the guys just took a quick dip and left, but Andre, Carlo and Tony are single, with a reputation as the party animals on our team, and they stuck around for the rest of the afternoon.

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I started or ended many of the next few days looking at the photos or examining some aspect of the video I found particularly arousing. I will confess, I made several trips to the ladies' room to tease my clit into climax recalling our activities that night. The pink shirt situation was little different. The warmer weather was starting to see some more colorful golf shirts come out of people's closets.

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As my wife finished jerking off our new friend Bob onto her tits while I filmed it; the thought occurred to me how our lives changed so drastically so fast. It was only a few days ago that Fiona and I were talking about how our love life had gotten so boring. "Dave we need to spice things up a little in the sack."

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First off, let me say that rape is a heinous thing to inflict on anyone. Nobody in their right mind would suggest otherwise and I do consider myself to be in my right mind. When a friend became a victim of date rape I was as shocked, as supportive, as anyone but that was when we were in high school and I was much younger.

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Mariah walked out of the office feeling extremely self-conscious. She'd never once in her life imagined that she'd have to accept public assistance, but circumstances had forced her to do exactly that. After losing her job and having no luck finding another one, her savings had run out, leaving her little choice. Her family was helping, but it was barely enough to pay the rent and utilities, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for more.

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I haven't always been like this. There was a time, as a younger woman, when I moved through the day without noticing everyone I encountered with the same eye for elements as I do now. Back then, a face was not a porthole to the inside world of men and women. The posture and carriage of a body did not reveal the food consumed, emotional baggage lugged, and the psycho/sexual energy of a personality. However, somewhere along the way, I developed these insights into people that left me feeling somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophet.

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Fiona applied the last of her mascara then started to pack her make up away. The doorbell rang and she walked into the hallway. "Darren, the babysitter has arrived are you nearly ready?" She opened the front door. "Evening Ying, come in and make yourself at home." Ying, the daughter of a family friend, was now Darren and Fiona's regular babysitter for their two-year-old son Joshua.

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