Your erotic stories

"Wash or dry?" Sheila asked. "Dry," Mike said. With one hand, he caught the dishtowel his wife tossed at him. "How's the shed coming?" she asked as she carefully washed a wine glass. Mike chuckled. "It's gonna be awesome. I should be done with the framing by the time Dave gets his rear end over here in the morning."

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The restaurant is dimly lit, just enough light to be romantic and cozy. The waitress I flirted with last week gives me a broad smile as we sit at my regular table. Usually I dine alone, but not tonight. You look fantastic in that shimmering black dress. It shows just enough skin to be enticing, and hugs tight enough to shows all your sexy curves.

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Part I Even for this business, the whole thing started out creepy. But to Eileen, it's part of the routine, ya know, so she asks the usual questions. Well, they're more statements than questions. "Naturally all you girls swallow, don't you?" Everybody hesitates, well, nearly everybody, promptin' a frown. But then everybody nods and Eileen's face brightens.

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Sarina was the short one with the long black hair and vinyl minidress, with awesome cleavage I kept staring at, deep-set eyes made deeper with dark shadow, and full lips that parted in the middle even when her mouth was closed. Angel was the tall, slender one with blonde hair in pigtails and faux schoolgirl outfit with plaid pleated miniskirt and thigh-high white stockings.

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Alice van der Poole loved her boyfriend. Really, she did. Ben was perfectly handsome, perfectly sweet, perfectly... bland. Every kiss was preceded with a gentle, "May I kiss you?" and followed by a whispered, "You're so beautiful." At night, Ben would tell her how precious she was, how delicate and sweet and lovely. His fragile, perfect little rose. Alice wanted to scream.

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Louise had frequent contact with the hospitals and regular clinics in the area, and beyond. In fact most of her clients were referred by the medical staff at those places, by the more progressive minded staff, anyway. A copy of an old letter from a doctor at Westport General had fallen from a folder onto the corridor and hence and found its way by chance into the hands of one of the hospital's nurses, RN Suzanne (Sue) Meissner, just coming off her afternoon duty as a cardiac nurse. Sue was not connected with the Dr. Smith concerned or his patients, might have thrown the letter away had she seen a waste basket nearby.

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Karen propped herself up on her elbows before struggling up into a sitting position. It was getting harder and harder for her to do that the further along she progressed in her pregnancy. Still, she figured that she had better enjoy her mini vacation while she could, and to that end she'd gotten into the habit of visiting the beach everyday.

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The gathering at Alan's was supposed to be a pool party, but the clouds had been threatening all through the sultry August afternoon and few had taken a swim. By the time the barbecue was ready, it looked like it really would rain at any moment, so everyone crowded inside with their food. By the time I got mine there was hardly any place to sit, and I was grateful when Anne, who had already finished eating, waved me over to take her place on a low ottoman that had been pushed aside so it was near the end of the couch.

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I had driven several hours through the hot Nevada desert, frequently consulting the map from a friend. About an hour before getting to Creampie Ranch, I called ahead. Admittance there is by invitation from a current member, and I had my signed letter from my friend. My heart pounded as I rang the bell at the gate. A moment later it unlocked with a loud click and I walked to the main building.

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Maria sat on the edge of her bed and looked down at her heavy, hanging breasts and her swollen belly. Her back ached and her slender frame was bowed beneath the weight of her unborn baby. She had slept badly the previous night and her eyes, normally lively and full of life, were dulled with exhaustion. David had left her as soon as he discovered that she was pregnant.

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