Your erotic stories

It is a picture postcard night on the deserted beach, and I am the insomniac drifting in its midst. There is no real reason why I can’t sleep – I am just another restless soul in search of moonlight and some sea air. By day, I am a doctor. My hours are spent putting other lives before my own, offering hope to the hopeless and performing the miracles of modern medicine on a daily basis.

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I was on vacation from the States. One bright, sunny day which is often most unusual in England while strolling along the beach, I listened to the ocean waves swishing onto the sandy-small rock strewn shore to kiss the land before returning out to sea from whence they came.

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“I hate doing laundry!” Emma snapped, storming into her flat and slamming the front door behind her. “Emma!” Rachel groaned, lifting her head from the sofa, “You woke me up…” “Don’t expect me to have any sympathy for you.” “Be nice to me. I’m not feeling well.”

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Tanya knocked on the door, waiting for Erica to answer. She had butterflies in her stomach as she heard the footsteps coming closer to the door. She wasn't sure if she could, or should continue with the thing she had come here for. Erica was a lesbian, and Tanya had come here for sex. Erica had been working with Rick for six weeks. He suspected she was at least bisexual, if not fully lesbian.

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Rita was sobbing at the kitchen table; she worried how she could survive and take care of her 18 year old daughter Kimberly. The 37 year old mother was distraught; her whole world had turned upside down in an instant. No sooner had Kim went off to school when her husband called to tell her that he cleared out their bank account, was running off with another woman and not to try to find him as he was leaving the country.

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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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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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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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It was my first big party of the year. I had come with my friend Amanda. Being from a small college in a small town, we often made the drive to the nearest state school, where there was always a party or two on the weekend, especially at the frat houses. Soon after arriving, however, Amanda ran into a group of friends from back home.

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I studied French at university. As part of the deal they sent us all to France and so, at the age of twenty-one, I found myself living in Paris for a year. Some people were teachers. I was a student, though, and I had a great time. But, being a student in Paris, I was anything but rich. Money was always a problem and one way that I tried to make some was by giving private lessons in English.

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