Your erotic stories

Jamie sat in his kitchen, studying the woman across from him. He squinted through the smoke from his pipe and, for a moment, saw her as she had been when they met. He smiled at the memory. She had been 19, he 35. Neither had believed the other could be interested in themselves. Yet they were. Then she had been young, pretty and immature.

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After we made love, I laid in bed feeling warm and satisfied and pleasantly sleepy, my bare back against his lean, naked body. My head was cradled against his chest, our legs cozily tangled and his arm resting on my side while his hand gently caressed my hip. He reached down and pulled the covers up to our shoulders and adjusted so our bodies were even closer together.

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Graphic lesbian sex, questionable consent, and...well...blood-drinking. Also more than likely entirely derivative, albeit subconsciously. If any of that disturbs you, please skip this one. Comments welcome!

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I hate labels. I don't consider myself gay. Hell, I don't even think of myself as bi, either. Slightly bent? Straight with a slight curve? Fuck if I know because I love sex with women. Really, I do, except I've had a dick or two inside my mouth, too. So, what does that make me? Before Todd, I never thought much about it. Best to think of myself as a horny bastard and leave it at that.

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Part I It started out as one of the worst dates I'd ever had. He was good looking enough, to be sure... tall, blonde, and decent muscles showed through the nice suit. And he had money. Designer sunglasses hid his emerald eyes while he drove, and when he laid them down; it was on the dash of a beautiful blue Ferrari convertible. But his arrogance was overwhelming.

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Michael Broderick's attorney had showed him a copy of the suggested ruling that his wife's attorney had provided to the judge hearing their divorce case. "Good God, they can't be serious. I know that this is California, what with the community property rules, but I earned most of my money before I married that witch," He had moaned out when he saw the request for forty-four million dollars.

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During my junior year of college, I shared a house off campus. Over the summer there were just two of us, myself and a graduate student named Heather. She was tall, blonde, and attractive. We got along well and shared meals sometimes, but we never really hung out together. She was several years older than me, she had her work and her friends, and I always assumed that she was too sophisticated to want to spend much time with an undergraduate.

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It all started when my very dear friend Murthy had a stroke. But, let me start at the very beginning. I am Sekhar, a sixty year old successful professional consultant. Murthy, twelve years my senior and a long retired professor has been my dear friend of over forty years. I and my wife Sumana (58) live in our own comfortable three bed room apartment in a posh area of our city, our only daughter, married, lives in U.S.A along with her husband and son. Murthy is a widower having lost his dear wife about seven years ago.

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It was her weekend at her father's, and was, as always, a nice vacation from her boring life at her mothers. Being at her dad's made her feel warm and happy, like she was a little girl again. She loved laying in the massive, ornate white canopy bed with its soft pink sheets and fluffy white comforters. This room was also her favorite backdrop for her adult amateur barely legal website.

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The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn't understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today. The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the mid seventies through the mid eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn't fully realize until I had left the City of the Angels the first time I lived there.

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