Your erotic stories

I first met Saskia at an art class. I was posing nude and she was one of the students. When I got the chance to see her painting I let out a gasp. Unlike the others it was clearly me, but me as she interpreted me. My hair, quite blonde in real life was jet black in her painting, but she had captured the way it was styled so beautifully. My skin tone was a lot paler too, much more like hers and my lips were bright red, also like hers.

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When I was 19 I worked four nights a week in a youth club, St. Patrick's Y. C. It was a very popular youth club which attracted children and teenagers from a wide area in the west of the city. The club itself was actually a couple of large huts; the type you might find that act as additional classrooms in some schools. The interior of the club rooms was bright and welcoming and housed a variety of seats, tables, snooker and table tennis table.

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The rippling fire from the fireplace casted a glow over the bedroom suite as Norah sat against the metal headboard with her wrists in silver handcuffs attached to the bars. She waited in trepidation for her kidnapper to make an appearance again. Her prison was a comfortable one for the room gave off a warm and cozy feel that had a wonderful view of the city she had grown up in.

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As the car idles in front of the school, in line with all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, I take out my phone and call you. "Hi, baby," you say, the tension in your voice coming through the line clearly. "Do you need something?" "I was just about to pick up the kids and thought I'd see how your day is going and if you wanted something special for dinner. Is Michaels still breathing down your neck?"

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Security guard isn't the most glamourous job in the world, but it suits me fine. After all, who else gets paid for sitting around watching a monitor all night? It's a bit monotonous, but it gives me time to think. You can go into a kind of zen trance watching all the nothing going on. Lately I had been working this university gig – campus cops. It wasn't bad. I got to walk around a bit, and the worst I had to do was break up a frat brawl or escort a panicky girl back to her dorm.

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Ahh, now I remember why I was willing to come to this silly reunion. The reunion activities were a total bore. I remember why I didn't like these people very much even in college. It's sort of amazing that I married Jim; he likes them well enough. I was bored and went out for my walk. But here, in my own special place, this is my favorite place from college. It's a little wooded glade right near the stream that cuts off the northern corner of campus.

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The Luger felt cold and heavy in Anne-Marie's small hand. She hated guns, violence, confrontation, and was by nature timid and reserved. Under normal circumstances she would be home now, or maybe out with Polly at the girl's club, in the underground. I wish I was anywhere but here, she thought. Circumstances were far from normal, for this was Paris in 1943 and Anne-Marie had joined her countrymen in resisting the German invaders.

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Julie watched with detached curiosity as the little drama played out in the park. It was about four o'clock on a balmy, breezy spring afternoon and the ducks and geese were gliding to and fro on the pond, looking for handouts from the park's occasional visitor. Julie wasn't interested in them just now, as her attention was on the young couple on the other side of the pond who seemed to be having a doozy of an argument.

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I don't know why I did it. Okay, that's a lie, do I know, at least I think I do. First of all, it's fun to be seen as a sex symbol. Not as a porn star, hell no. I'm not a slut. Okay, maybe a wanna-be slut, but I'm a good girl. I didn't go to a Catholic school, but I was raised Catholic and I still believe most of it, okay?

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Determined sunbeams stretched across rumpled bed sheets, inching their way up the pillow in a desperate attempt to kiss the sleepy face resting there. Sheer, white curtains danced on a gentle morning breeze that carried with it the melodic sound of birds chirping in the distance.

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