All of the short stories written on Erotica Lust are by Goran Radanovic. They are erotic, fun, entertaining and may even make you laugh.
I slumped onto the couch and exhaled a heavy sigh. Being a strong and independent woman was exhausting. Outside, three men passed me, and none of them offered to carry my air conditioning package. They must’ve been intimidated by me.
My weed dealer, Smokey, told me about the upmarket gym that had recently opened in a luxurious building. Initially, I thought he was joking. His scrawny arms wouldn’t fool anyone into believing that he lifted weights.
Summer’s wind-down urged me to go to the beach, with the hopes of finding ass to tap. Preferably round, tanned, plump ass. That was my goal, but my desperation lowered my standards significantly, so I would accept pretty much anything with a pussy.
I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it seems that everyone is in holiday mode. I posted a pic of myself on Insta, and it barely got fifty likes. Even if I say so myself, my black skirt and tank top made me look stunning. That post had only five comments
I leapt into the bus just before the door closed. Panting, I looked back at the road that I had sprinted to ensure that I wouldn’t miss my interview. Thank God that Gwyneth helped me on short notice to look after my daughter.
Ten years of marriage and raising three children exhausted me. At age 32, I needed a break. Mike and I got married soon after he graduated. He didn’t even have a job when he proposed. I worked as a cashier, earning minimum wage.
“Woohoo!” I exclaimed with my fist raised above my head, my other arm tightly around Travis’s abdomen. He swerved left and right, probably attempting to frighten me, but I felt safe with him. He straightened out the bike and twisted the throttle.
I don’t know what I would do without my bestie, Charlotte. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve spent Friday night at home, probably watching movies. She called me out of the blue a few minutes ago and told me about a new joint that opened up.
The drive to the gym was always my favourite part of the day. The destination is my sanctuary where I sweat out the agony and the frustration that has built up inside of me, thanks to elderly customers needing me to explain the same thing five times.
Jeremy’s inability to do ten one-handed push-ups completely turned me off. He barely did five push-ups, and I managed to double his effort and do a walking handstand. Ugh! When am I ever going to meet a real man? Weak men