Your erotic stories

"For the last time; I don't KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" "Oh I think you do. I just don't understand who or what you're protecting." "Fucking cucaracha, do you have any ears?!" "And again, with the feistiness...Just tell us what we want to know." The room was poorly lit for effect, but the redhead didn't know that. She was blindfolded and cuffed to a cold steel chair.

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In the morning, Mel and I didn't mention what had happened between us. It didn't feel awkward, but something was definitely different. We were both acting coy, almost like we were daring each other to mention something, or make a move, or whatever. It felt like foreplay.

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8 o'clock on the dot I arrived at Diane's studio. I was greeted at the door by the hairstylist who whizzed me straight into his room where he immediately put me at ease with his lively chatter. He took me right though a typical shoot, what would happen and when. What I should and should not say or do. I was sure he was gay;

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I awoke with the sun shining through the undraped bedroom window. During the first few moments of semi-consciousness, I had forgotten where I was and what had happened just a few hours before. My hand glided over my pelvis when I repositioned and it was at that moment, when I felt the absence of hair that the memory of last night sprung into my head.

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I had been back to Carol’s many times since that weekend when she first made love to me out in her pool house. No longer was I only a weekend visitor, I spent many weekday afternoons and evenings over at her place, usually using my babysitting as an excuse to tell my parents.

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Her stiletto boots vibrated with the pulse of the industrial beat. She felt in the middle of something exciting. Around her, people clad in latex, leather, chains, and drag carried on comfortably and casually, as if they were at a friends’ house. Lights swirled. She walked on, exploring the various areas of the club. She and her friend laughed as they pointed out this person, or that, comparing impressions.

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"Julie?" I heard a voice ask. As I turned around, I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. The woman attached to those eyes was a tall brunette with blonde highlights, a curvy body and ample cleavage that was highly visible in the low-cut shirt she had on. I took a minute to look her over before answering.

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“Man, it’s hot in here,” I thought, as I entered the shower room after my heavy post-christmas workout. I was surprised to see it empty, as it was usually full of naked women, cooling off after their sessions in the gym. I’m not a lesbian by any stretch of the imagination, but sometimes I find myself staring at their hot bodies, wondering what it would be like to touch them, taste them.

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I am the youngest of five children, all girls. My oldest sister got pregnant very young, and I was 7 when my oldest niece, Holly, was born. She and I have always been close, a number of people have commented that we are very similar people. Four years ago she and her whole family moved back east when her dad got a new job. She and I have stayed in touch, by email and the occasional phone call.

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“Jack so wants you!” Melissa Webber told her friend Jennifer as the pair walked to the Webber house together, after school. “He does not,” replied Jennifer, laughing. “Yes he does,” Melissa said, her face splitting into a wide grin. “He wants you baaaaad.” She laughed along with her friend.

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