It was six o’clock and I was dead tired from a hard day at work when I got on the crowded subway. Relieved to be heading home, I at first didn’t notice the redhead that got on at the second stop. The train was packed, as usual, and the normal barriers of personal space that usually exists between commuters were nonexistent. She brushed my arm as she passed and finally stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint lavender scent lingering on her auburn hair.

She was a few inches shorter than me, wearing a strapless dress in rich green, contrasting with her pale, freckled shoulders. The dress was tight. It clung to her narrow hips and stretched tautly across her ass, showing the outline of her panties.

More passengers boarded at the next stop and the girl in the green dress was forced slightly back. Now her shapely ass was pressed into my crotch and I could see over her shoulder her small but perfectly round tits. I could feel my dick stirring in my pants. I craned my neck slightly to look down into the gap between her breasts.

I was fully hard now, and the redhead pressed against me only intensified my arousal. She inhaled quickly, startled by the unmistakable pressure of my cock.

She turned her head slightly and looked sidelong at me with her hazel eyes. Her features were delicate, and freckles also dotted her high cheekbones and the narrow bridge of her nose. She looked like an Irish princess. My erection still firmly pressing against her, I prepared for an embarrassing confrontation. Instead, her eyes flickered and her lips curled into a mischievous half-smile. Slowly and deliberately, she began to grind her ass against my stiff member.

This surreptitious bump-and-grind continued until the train crawled to a stop at the next station. The redheaded seductress turned to me again and said, over her shoulder, “This is my stop. Is this where you get off?”

“It is now,” I replied.

I followed her off of the platform, through the crowd and to a relatively empty part of the station. She stopped at an unmarked door and impishly looked around before opening it. With a slender finger she beckoned me inside.

It looked to be a storage closet, filled with boxes of paper and other supplies for the station office. The room was lit by a single naked bulb, hanging overhead. As I locked the door she put her arms around me from behind and began to run her hands over my chest and stomach, moving down until she finally reached my still solid cock. She undid my pants and pulled it out through the slit in my boxers.

She ran her tapered fingers up and down my shaft and lightly squeezed the tip of my dick. She pressed her breasts against my back as she continued to teasingly stroke my cock and gently fondle my balls.

Unable to take it any longer, I turned quickly and kissed her deeply, my hands moving down to the small of her back then to her ass. I tightly gripped the soft fabric and flesh as she pushed me against the wall and began to unbutton my shirt.

I pulled her dress down over her tits and caressed her them, my fingers brushing roughly over her pert nipples. Her eyes were aflame with desire as she kissed me wildly. I guided her to a wall lined with grey metal shelves and turned her around, kissing her neck and pushing her dress up over her hips. I pulled down her pink-laced panties, now moistened with the fluids of desire. She bent over, steadying herself on a low shelf. I took her from behind.

My cock fit tightly in her wet, pink pussy and I felt like I was going to immediately come. I slowly began to push myself in and out of her tight pink lips as she cooed softly. My gripped tightly on her hips as I began to thrust harder and harder, the shelves banging noisily against the wall. Her breasts swayed freely with every motion, and she removed one steadying hand so that she could grab and squeeze them while I pounded her.

My dick reached deep inside her. Her hole was wet and slippery, but its tightness gripped me and gave light resistance with every stroke. I kept hammering her as my manhood tingled with pleasure. I gripped tighter for leverage and spanked her lily-white ass while my sac slapped against her clit in rhythm to my movements.

Her coos turned to moans and her moans to screams as I continued to fuck her doggy-style, she ran her hand urgently over her chest and down her stomach. She was nearly screaming when she moved her hand down over her well manicured-thatch of light-red pubes, rubbing her clitoris vigorously as my cock thumped inside her.

I thrust faster, faster, faster until we both could only make low grunts and gasps of pleasure. I felt her already tight pussy clamp harder around my stiff dick as she came noisily. The added pressure around my already throbbing cock, coupled with her scream of passion, sent me over the edge and I came with her, my hot jizz blasting out furiously. We stood there, me still inside her, in the softly lit storage closet. I had never felt so happy that I rode public transit.

It was a blazing day in El Cajon when I pulled into the dirt road that served as the makeshift parking lot for the day’s classic car show. Fifteen miles east of San Diego, El Cajon didn’t benefit from the cool ocean breeze of its more temperate neighbor, and all that was left was a deep, penetrating heat. Beads of sweat began to trickle down my chest as soon as I stepped into the glaring sun.

I gently closed the door to my cherry-red1958 Impala hard-top and looked around the lot. Through the sepia-tone of my aviators I saw the usual gang of car show regulars. There was the grizzled old veterans, showing off the cars they spent their retirements restoring, and the gearheads who spent every last penny of their mechanic’s paychecks on salvaged parts for their vintage hot rods. And the girls. Oh the girls.

There was always a sizable group of models at these types of shows. Local nineteen and twenty year old talent willing to wiggle and flirt at a supplier’s booth for a hundred dollars and an undersized T-shirt. These girls have everything that a hot-blooded man could want, and they certainly let you know it. Tight terrycloth shorts stretched tautly over their asses, barely containing the round but firm curve underneath. Pert young tits straining to burst forth from inside their white cotton tops. A bearded biker leered with unconcealed lechery at a blonde in the Mopar booth, until his old-lady dragged him away by his graying ponytail.

Yeah, the girls were there and hot enough to make El Cajon in July seem downright chilly by comparison. I’d been around the circuit long enough to know that these girls looked even more beautiful in the backseat of your car with their lips wrapped around your cock. I scanned the booths and looked over a brunette with a big ass and a naïve smile. That’s when she walked by.

She wasn’t a booth girl, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by her body. She was tall, maybe six-foot, with long shapely legs rising up to meet a perfectly shaped ass under frayed denim cutoffs. I could see the top half of a tattoo – a butterfly? – on her right hip peeking above her low-rise shorts. Her stomach was toned and flat, and a light pink tank top stretched over a pair of what looked to be C-cup breasts, round and full. She was bra-less, and her shirt’s thin fabric revealed the faint outlines of her nipples.

She stopped and looked at my ride, then at me. Her eyes were a deep blue brought out by her tan skin and long, honey hair. “Nice car. I’ve always looked good in red.”

“I bet you look good in anything,” I said. Or nothing, I thought. Especially nothing. We chatted for a while about nothing in particular. The heat, the show, my car. The whole time she spoke she kept her thumb in her belt loop, peeling down her shorts just enough to reveal the rest of the butterfly tattoo and her well defined hipbone. She was a local girl, and she didn’t know much about cars. I generously offered to teach her about mine. I decided we should start with the interior.

I climbed in the driver’s side and she the passenger’s. The bench-style seats were trimmed in blue leather that stuck lightly to her the back of her smooth, bronzed thighs. It was hot inside, despite the heavily tinted windows, and a bead of sweat made its way down her chest until it disappeared into the majestic ravine between her breasts. She ran her hand over the dashboard, on to the steering wheel, and finally let her hand drop down to my thigh. I could feel myself getting hard.

Without a word, I leaned in and greedily threw my lips onto her collarbone, her sweat salty, stinging my tongue. She tilted her head back and I made my way up her slender neck until I settled just behind her ear. She grabbed my hair and moaned softly as I ran my hand up her bare legs until my fingers reached the fringe of her shorts. My mouth softly tugged at the bottom of her earlobe when I felt her grip tighten.

In an instant, I ducked my head down and began to kiss her inner thigh as she undid the button on her shorts. With a light tug I guided them down over her ass and off. I ran my tongue up closer toward her pussy and teasingly underneath the edge of her white thong. I tasted her again, this time the taste was sticky and sweet and I wanted more. I peeled down her thong to reveal her cleanly shaven snatch, pink and quivering from every touch of my hands, lips, and tongue.

She took off my shirt. Our bodies were glistening with sweat but I knew that it was more than sweat that gleamed in the pale, white triangle formerly covered by her panties. She let out a slight gasp as her moist flesh gave way to the two fingers I slid inside her. Her hands gripped my shoulders firmly as I flicked my tongue around her pussy’s lips. I felt her breath quicken and her twat tighten around my fingers as I worked my way toward the top of her pussy. I lathered my tongue over her clit while I worked my index and middle fingers in and out of her her slippery cunt. She arched her back and squealed in ecstasy. I could feel her even tighter around my hand as my tongue continued lapping furiously. Soon, she screamed a clipped, high-pitch scream and flailed her hips wildly, her soaked crotch rubbing against my face as she screechingly climaxed.

Her hair now matted from the car’s upholstery, she pulled my head from her muff and pushed me onto my back. She took off her tank top and revealed her breasts, even more full and firm than they looked under her shirt, with small pink areolas around her hardened nipples. She kissed me as she took off my jeans, first my neck, then my chest, and then finally my stomach as she pulled down my boxers. My dick, having gotten harder and harder while I buried my face in her hairless beaver, stood long and firm. Her eyes got wide, first with surprise at its size and then with an insatiable desire to feel it inside her.

I slid to her side of the seat and she straddled over me. Her still drenched pussy dripping onto my cock, she bit lightly on the side of my neck as her hair brushed against my chest. My throbbing rod slid easily inside her slit and she again arched her back in delight, thrusting her magnificent breasts into my face. I gripped her waist and she rocked back and forth on my pulsing dick as I sucked and bit her left nipple. She groaned, and I did too as I felt her gliding up and down every inch of my nine inch cock.

I grabbed a tuft of her hair and leaned her back so that I could fit myself deeper inside her. My eyes rolled slightly back as I felt her grinding harder on the underside of my manhood. She said nothing; she couldn’t; she was so deep in the throes of passion that all she could manage were intermittent squeaks of pleasure. I ran my hand down to her ass and slapped it once before feeling its muscular but soft flesh in my hand. Her tits bounced rhythmically on my face and shoulders. I too was rendered speechless by sheer erotic bliss, and the car was filled by a symphony of heavy, sharp breaths and throaty groans.

Her ass bounced up and down over my dick until I could feel my member twitching and straining under the pressure of the come that was about to erupt. Sensing this, she dismounted and knelt on the floorboard, taking me in her mouth. She first put her lips around the tip and then, taking smiling at her own sweet taste, pushed me deeper inside as her hand worked up my balls to the base of my shaft. Up and down she worked her mouth and tongue over my now shuddering cock. My hips strained and bucked as she sucked and licked until finally I could hold back no more.

I came, first in spurts and then in gushes, as she continued lightly working her lips down my rod. I was a machine gun, my dick spraying forth a torrent of milky cum that she swallowed as it ricocheted off the back of her throat. I reached back and moaned, satisfied as the last blasts issued forth. She worked one final time down almost to the base of my cock, as if she didn’t want to waste a single drop of my come. With a smile, she licked her lips and looked up at me, smiling as she brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead.

She wordlessly redressed and checked herself in the rear view mirror. I sat, naked and spent, in the driver’s seat once more. Satisfied with her reflection, she turned to me and gave me a half smile. “Next time you’re in El Cajon, we should do this again.”

“How will I…?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” And with that, she stepped out and disappeared into the southern California sun.

When the meeting turns to the sales report, you know that you’re in deep trouble. Sales this quarter were terrible, you know that, and you think that given the economy it’s not really your fault. You know Mrs. Evans won’t see it that way.

Joan Evans, the Vice President of Sales and Marketing, was as hard-assed as they come. In her early forties but certainly not looking like it, she rose to the top of the company fast by working hard and not taking any shit from her mostly male coworkers. Her tongue was sharp and everyone in the company knew to stay off her bad side or risk being torn open by her scathing criticisms.

As Mrs. Evans flips to your report, directing a stream of vitriol your way while your coworkers try to avoid eye contact, you tune her out and let your mind wander as you looked at the petit yet intimidating woman at the front of the room.

She really was an attractive woman, even though she tried to hide it in her conservative business attire. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun and her small waist gave way to full hips before tapering down to legs that even her knee-length skirt could not hide the shapeliness of. You wonder what she’d look like in a miniskirt.

Just then Mrs. Evans closes the meeting. Everyone rises from the conference table and starts to make their exit. She looks at you with her piercing dark eyes. “Not you. You stay. We have to talk about your performance.” Your colleagues shoot you sympathetic glances before hastily leaving the room to gossip about your future – or lack thereof.

When everyone is gone, Mrs. Evans locks the door. The conference room has no windows,; you can feel the room get more humid. You are for some reason reminded of the times you spent with your college girlfriend, the air of your tiny dorm room heavy with the combined sweat and sexual energy of two young, lust-crazed students. Mrs. Evans bends slightly to get a file and you notice the cleavage just underneath her white button down blouse. You can feel your dick harden.

“I should fire you,” she says and you notice how full and sensual her lips are. “These numbers are unacceptable.” She’s staring into you now, past your eyes and into your soul as if she’s searching for something deep inside you that she… wants. Your mouth starts to water from fear and, strangely, desire.

You notice something change in her hard gaze. It doesn’t soften, but it seems to carry with it a spark of satisfaction, like a lioness who has spotted her easy prey.

“Of course, I suppose there are other ways you can contribute.” She moves to your side of the room and sits on the table, her skirt rising up slightly. Your heartbeat quickens. She lowers her eyes to your lap. You’re fully hard now and the outline is visible through the fabric of your slacks.

“Yes, there are definitely other ways.”

She slides a manicured finger down from her throat to the top of her blouse. She undoes a button. You can see the tops of her full breasts and the edge of her lace bra.

“I think it’s time that you had a full performance review.”

She moves to you and pulls you up by the top of your tie.

“J…Joan…” you finally manage but she jerks your tie and cuts you off.

“You will refer to me as Mrs. Evans.”

You guide off Mrs. Evans’ blazer as she loosens your tie and begins to unbutton your shirt. You lean in to kiss her on those plump, red lips but she stops you and directs you downward. Her skin is soft and you can taste her perfume as you hungrily set your lips upon the exposed part of her chest. You unbutton her shirt and run your hands up her spine to unclasp her bra. She shimmies out of her top and you bury your face in her pale, supple breasts.

She exhales loudly at the touch of your lips to her dark pink nipples and she runs her hand down your stomach and feels your rigid cock over your clothes. Her hands expertly undo your belt and your pants, and in seconds you stand in the conference room fully exposed.

You move your hands down her waist, lips still kissing her breasts as you push her skirt up. She is stroking your dick now, her hands nimble and soft as she runs them up and down the underside of your shaft. You pull her leggings down to her ankles. Flexible, Mrs. Evans rocks back and puts her legs over your head and rests a calf on each of your shoulders. You pull her to the edge of the polished oak conference table and, standing, stick your throbbing cock deep inside her wet, quavering pussy.

She kicks off her heels, pushes her leggings from her feet and wraps her long legs around your neck. She’s moaning now, but not in the forceful way you had imagined she would. As you tighten your grip on her thighs and continue to ravage your boss’s soaking slit, you look down and see not an intimidating power-broker but a vulnerable woman biting her lower lip to keep from screaming at the ecstasy she feels as your cock pounding her over and over again.

You join her on top of the table with your dick still inside her. Now you’re on your knees on top of her and she’s flat on her back, her tits bouncing upward with every powerful thrust. No, she’s not Mrs. Evans, you think, as you pin her wrists above her head. She’s just Joan, and she just needs a good fucking.

She’s writhing underneath you now, looking up at you with eyes glassed over by pleasure. “Oh.. oh God…” It’s her that’s stammering now as you feel her pelvic muscles getting tighter and tighter around your pulsating hard-on. You tighten your grip on her wrists and she groans appreciatively. Her back rises from the table and she contorts as she finally can take no more. She works her hands free and grabs you by the hair. She pulls your mouth toward hers and kisses you deeply in a desperate effort to stifle a scream. She comes, you can feel it, and as she does you can also feel your own hot come rushing toward the top of your still hammering cock. As she finishes her climax you pull out of her drenched pussy. You look at the exhausted and satisfied the woman on the conference table, and feel the explosion racing through your shaft, up to your head and, in long, pearl white streams, on to the face of the Vice President of Sales and Marketing.

She reaches in her bag and finds something to clean herself up with as you get dressed. You look her in the eyes and you know that something has changed. Her eyes are no longer hard, and she averts them as she re-buttons her blouse.

“Will that be all, Mrs. Evans?” you say.

“Yes. That will be all.”

Welcome to a book of Erotic Stories. This is the first post and soon you will be able to read fresh new stories everyday. You can submit yours too