An Erotic X-Files Story

Trudi stared at the clock above the classroom door, willing the
second hand to click one more time. It had already been one of the
longest days of her life, spent trying to ignore the stares and giggles
of the students who had heard rumors about the incident at the Road
Pantry and trying to figure out what the hell she was going to say to
Gene, and it was still only 2:59 pm.
There had been plenty of time to reflect on the incident during
the past two days, since she had been grounded – confined to her room
with no phone privileges. Her mother had even kept her out of school
and stayed home from work to keep an eye on her yesterday. Her face
flushed with shame as she remembered the horrified look on her mothers
face when she had arrived to pick her up late Saturday night at the
police station. It had taken hours of tearful screaming and yelling on
Trudi’s part before her mother had even begun to consider the
possibility that she had been put under some kind of spell, and if the
guy from the FBI hadn’t called Trudi might still be in her room. Continue reading An Erotic X-Files Story

Stuff the Stocking

It was Christmas Eve and I was working over the break from
college at a Gap in the mall. Earlier that morning, my co-workers and
I had had a little X-mas party. Nothing special, eggnog, nuts, and
poundcake. After most of the crew had left, it was just me Drew, the
new guy, and Chrissy, the Manager Trainee. I was a little disappointed
as Carmen gave me a goodbye hug and bounced out of the store, her
bubble butt barely covered by a body suit and micro-skirt.

The mall was due to close in half an hour and it had pretty
much cleared out except for some stragglers in the Food Court.

bubblebutt
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An Elevator Sex Story

Mike Everett, a twenty seven year old instructor in the physics
department, approached the impressive arch of the school’s entrance
determined to make a move on something that had become very important to
him.

“Hello, John,” he greeted the middle age black man with a white mustache
who served as security on the evening shift.

“Hi, there, almost Dr. Mike,” the man replied.

Mike was months away from finishing the requirements for a Ph.D.

“Working late again?” John asked.

“I work for a purpose, you know.”

“Yeah, Mike, and your purpose is up in the library as usual on a
Wednesday.”

“It’s more like an obsession than a goal, John. I can’t sleep at night.
I see her pretty face in my mind and resist dozing off. I want to suck
her neck then sniff her all over.”

“Hah! Mike, I’ve had that feeling with three women, and I knocked them
all up.”

elevator-nude
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Making Sacrifices 2.

Amy hid in her bedroom, wanting to get away from all the yelling
and screaming and flying projectiles of the other room. She wanted to
slap her hands over her ears to keep out all the noise, but that was
too childish for her. Instead, she sat on her bed, clutching her
comforter to her small body. Soon there was the sound of the screen
door banging shut and angry feet stomping down the front steps. Not
given to tears, Amy sat there thoughtfully, staring at nothing in
particular. Then she did what she always did when depressed; Amy
curled on her side on the bed, pulled the comforter over her head, and
slept.
She was woken minutes later by large, rough hand rubbing back
and forth on her shoulder and male voice saying, “Shh. Be quiet,
Amy,” over and over again.

aleska diamond xxx 4
Continue reading Making Sacrifices 2.

Making Sacrifices

“Jonathan, stop the car,” Amy demanded, her features resolute. “Right
now. This minute.”
His head swiveled around. “Are you insane? It’s two in the
morning,” he pointed out incredulously. His grip on the steering
wheel tightened until his knuckles were white. “I’m not going to let
you walk home from here.”
Amy inhaled deeply, mentally counting to ten. Then to twenty.
It didn’t help. Her eyes fairly burned. “I’ll call a cab from a
payphone or something. Just stop the car and let me out. I don’t
want to spend another second with you. I-I don’t understand how you
can be such–Ugh! Just take stop this car. Please.”

upskirt
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Mass Transit

I cursed mass transit. More than a half million people in this city
and they all insist on driving to work, it seemed. So I, in deference
to my civic duty, took to traveling on the bus and light-rail system.
Not only did I save money, I had more time to read and listen to music
during the trips.

Mass-transit; Tri-Met as known in the Portland area, is very popular.
Too popular, I say. I pay a full fare, and here I stand in the aisle
of the train, while men and fat women take up seats.

Assholes! Haven’t you men ever learned of manners? You sit there
like fat, roasting pigs staring mundanely and absently out the fogged
windows as if I am not standing inches from you! I’d like to say that
out loud, of course.

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