Your erotic stories

It was Thursday night and Michele was in one of those moods. She wanted, no she needed some erotic sexual activity. She didn’t really care what kind as long as it was with someone exciting and warm blooded. Not that she wasn’t choosy, she definitely was choosy. She was just use to getting what she wanted and when she wanted it and she wanted some tonight.

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"I can't believe that you two are leaving me next week. You guys are just the most horrible people in the world." "We know, its what adds to our charm." Jason flashed his award winning smile. "I'm serious, you two don't know how much my life is going to suck after you guys move off to college." Together, that's the worst part Chelsea thought to herself.

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Every year William and I hold our "Come as You Bizarre" party. Everyone is required to dress in a way they never would in real life, in a way that would make their friends laugh, cry or recoil in shock. Last year I was a Playboy bunny, the year before, a scantily clad wench. This year, I chose a skin tight black wet-look catsuit, one that showed off every single curve of my body.

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Tonight was going to be a big one. It would be the tipping scale in Eric and Sara's relationship as Sara's best friend Pamela, would be at the party tonight. Sara had always been jealous of Pam, not because she was prettier or a better person. Sara was just a very jealous girl and Eric and Pam had spent a lot of time together.

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I always looked up to Blaine; she was like the big sister I never had. Blaine taught me everything, from how to walk in heels to getting a guy to pay for your drinks. I really loved it; hell, I loved her. It killed me to admit it, but I really did. Not in the awkward way a brother loves a sister, or the passionate way a husband loves a wife, but in a secret, silent way that was embarrassing to think about.

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"Gretchen, are you sure everything's okay? Ever since we got here you've been acting so... nervous! It's okay to relax, you know. I mean, the conference is over. And I don't know about you, but I'm planning on celebrating tonight!" I smiled at Lauren – she was sweet to encourage me to relax, and I did want to let loose. More than she knew.

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My name is Rachael, I'm 49 years old, and one of the three founding members of S.O.S., the Sisterhood of Sex. The sisterhood began a few years back as part of a running joke between myself and two very close girlfriends. We would get together during the day while the kids were at school and the topic would almost always turn to sex, or as was often the case, the lack of it.

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I don't know how I get myself into these situations. As a new teacher, I expected that I'd get the shitty jobs around the school. One of those shitty jobs turned out to be chaperoning a herd of seniors on the school's weekend ski trip. There were four teachers in all trying to keep 45 kids in line. Well, I guess they weren't exactly kids - most of them were 18, which is the legal drinking age here in Alberta.

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Friday nights are my time to go dancing, this Friday wasn't any different, but my hub got called away last minute on a business trip. Not wanting me to stay home just because of him, he called a friend of his, Andrew and his wife and talked them into taking me out. Great, I thought, a third wheel, just what I wanted to be. I don't even know them really. I know that Andrew works with my hub and that his wife is kind of like me, stays home and watches the grass grow.

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I laughed out loud at cupid. He slapped his hand over my mouth to silence me; he wasn't happy, I could tell by the way he growled at me to shut up before straightening his listing laurel wreath and rearranging his bow and arrows. His face was silvered, heavy with stage makeup, his body sheathed in an over-tight leotard, and a toga that left little to the imagination.

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