Your erotic stories

Miss Sanders settled her class down after coming back from a break so she can start the English class with everyone calm and quiet. It never took more than two loud firm orders from her to get all of her students to hush up and pay attention. They were especially attentive ever since her sex-ed classes a couple months ago and they were all the more eager to please her and do as she says.

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Olivia and I had not dated much. And most of that was more about sex, not dating. Our first date was dinner, then back to her place for drinks and, quickly, bed. It was not that I was so great at seducing her. She just seemed as interested in sex as I wanted her to be in my daydreams. If you're thinking that a relationship like that couldn't last, well... well, you're right. But on to the story.

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My fortieth birthday had just gone by the previous week, with quite a fanfare of celebration. The years just seemed to have flown by. I sat back at my desk in the basement and reminisced the last twenty years. Moreover, perhaps puzzling what changes I should have made, if any at all. Or would all that had gone on this last month be an indication of the next decade. My teenage life was uneventful, I had a few girlfriends but nothing much happened until I was nineteen, then Jane appeared on the scene.

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Whenever I need to come, I just have to think back to those busy few days on the set, when both J and V touched my life in a most special way. That had been when I worked in the Industry as a sort of creative script consultant – a job I set up to both enhance the actor’s methoding, and therefore cut down on the studio’s worries. I was a sort of go-between, acting as interface between Director and producers on one side, and of course all the actors on the other.

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Carl I looked at my watch and to my dismay it was nearing 4:30pm. I had slightly over 400 miles to reach home and I just didn't feel like driving late into the night. It bothered me that my 58 years made me make old person decisions. I decided a nice meal and a good night sleep was a better idea. I phoned my wife to tell her of my plans and she thought my decision was a good one.

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My name is Zake. I'm called that because my parents gave me an unpronounceable Ukrainian name, and that was the best fit that came out of kindergarten. It stuck, and it's been hard to get confused with anyone else in the phone book. I'm 34 years old and I'm an instructor for heavy equipment. I also dig vacant lots for homebuilders on the side with my own business.

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This is the sequel to "Night of Lust for a Small Woman". I suggest you to read it, for a better understanding, but it's not strictly necessary. The characters are: -CAROL, nickname "Child" : a lovely, middle-aged, small housewife, who is captured and repeatedly raped by a gang of tall, strong convicts.

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I was standing in the small room, in front of a curtained window. Paul's hot breath on the back of my neck was doing little to dispel the tension that was tying me in knots, even though that's exactly what we were here for. The room was pretty dreary really; just this curtained window and a padded massage table behind us against the wall. Tired paint on the walls, scruffed tiled floor and ceiling, as if men before us had been walking the ceiling and dragged across the floor, which, for all I knew, was exactly what had caused the scruffing.

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A single sunbeam slipped between the curtains and illuminated the crumpled sheets on the bed. The fabric shifted slightly as one of the occupants moved. "Happy Birthday," Fiona cooed as she lay on her side, looking at Frank. "Thank you," Frank replied. Fiona slipped out of bed. Frank could see the silhouette of her body as she stepped into the sunbeam and it passed through her translucent sleepwear. He watched her walk to the closet and retrieved a neatly wrapped box with a red bow on top of it. She brought it back to the bed and offered it to him.

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In those days, I didn't wear underwear. I had long hair down to the small of my back. I was in good shape, lean and muscular, a bike rider with thick legs and a laid-back demeanor. You probably know the type. So a certain kind of woman often responded to me. A certain kind of man, too, although I'd never given that a thought. For my part, here's what I liked in a woman: Natural, sensual. smart. Sexual intellectuals. Open and daring, although even if they weren't, I usually got them there pretty quick.

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