Your erotic stories

"Ever feel like you're not really you? Like you're just an actor pretending to be somebody?" That's exactly what I am right now - an actress stepping into costume. The same costume I wear every day. Mascara, blush, mini-skirts, tights, sleeveless blouses. I wished I had said that, but I just muttered "uh-huh" as if I were just placating her.

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This memory is a continuation of an experience between friends that turned into lovers. Our first experience is captured in The Business Trip Viva Las Vegas After the trip to New York, Alison and I both returned to the office and things between us essentially went back to normal.

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I felt like I had to get out of there. It was the worst experience of my life. The problem was, my boyfriend was making love to me at the time. I was spread-eagled in his bed, with him pumping away for what seemed like hours, his dick humping my pussy, and it was just not doing it for me. He'd gotten it into his head that the girl has to cum, or the boy is a bad lover.

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Thoughts of her kept returning to me, time and again. Here I was, married with three children and lusting after another woman. She wasn't just any woman, mind you. She was an absolute beauty. She was perfect in every way. Her face was that of a porcelain doll, delicate and soft; her hair was dark and flowing, like shimmering silk;

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Courtney had always been intrigued by thoughts of being with another woman. In her small town though, it was a taboo never to be acted upon. She dated plenty of guys in High School, even allowing one to take her virginity, yet, none of those relationships were fulfilling for her. She felt something was missing, a void that would be filled by time spent with her close female friends, yet even then, she knew there was something more, something unattainable at the time.

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I was enjoying my final year in high school when Marco and her family moved into the house across the street from me. They had emigrated from France. It was just Marco, her Mom & Dad and her tall, beautiful sister Angela. Marco and I became instant friends. She went to the same high school as me and she was in my toughest class, Algebra. At least, it was tough for me...easy for her.

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I stared at the flags that hung on the back wall of the dojang, my eyes seemingly focusing on them in a deep entranced stare. Yet it wasn't the flags that had garnered my attention, rather it was the invisible opponent I was about to face off with. I had been participating in martial arts, specifically taekwondo, for over seven years. All my hard work had earned me a second dan black belt, an achievement I was ever proud of.

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Martine looks down the row of women, each one standing perfectly still with their hands behind their head and their elbows just touching the girl next to them on either side. She sees blondes, brunettes, redheads, women of every race and color, a celebration of female beauty. They are all naked, oiled lightly, and each one has the exact same expression of perfect joy on their face.

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I recall a trip I took to Chicago, it was 1977, almost 15 years ago, and my first unaccompanied business trip. I was 29 then, and my career was just taking off. My schedule called for three days of meetings and seminars. But, I had my own room, with my own king size bed, and I was looking forward to two evenings of uninterrupted privacy.

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The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums.

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