Your erotic stories

It was 3 AM and my bed sheets were a messy lump under my back. I was tired. It had been a tiring day -- get up early in the morning, make breakfast, work eight hours, go to movies with boyfriend, have a screaming fight with boyfriend outside of movie theatre, throw drink at boyfriend, cry after being dumped, rip up photos of us as a couple... all very tiring work.

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My name is Gabriela. No, it's not, but I'm not telling you my real name. I'm 29 years old. I was 29 last year too. I'm a professional girlfriend. My boyfriends' wives would call me a whore. My boyfriends buy me jewelry, clothing, pay my rent, my credit card bills, sometimes even give me shares in their companies or illegal stock tips.

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"You need something, Maryann?" "Could I have something for pain?" Her voice was small and hesitant. "I'll check. If you can, I'll bring it and then let it take effect and then," Sharon Caswell, R.N., paused with a whimsical smile of her face, "we'll do your bath." Maryann Hollander sort of laughed and then groaned, "Sharon don't make me laugh, it hurts."

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It was Danielle's 18th birthday. Her parents were going away for the weekend, but gave her permission to have some friends over for a birthday party, with one rule: No boys allowed. After some thinking, she decided on who she wanted to have over: Becky, Sarah, Amber, Candace, and Holly. She called each one in turn, and got them all to agree. All Danielle had to do now was wait.

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It was the closest I've ever been to hell, and heaven, on this earth. My name is Christine Wonderle. I'm a divorced, 32 year old small transport plane pilot in Alaska, one of the hundreds of "bush pilots" that earn their living in Alaska, ferrying people and goods from small town to encampment, and back again. Alaska is pretty much as wild as people picture it, with many areas only accessible by plane or boat. I'm good looking, and don't lack for dates, but I'd been working hard on my business, so I didn't get out much socially.

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My friend Melanie has the hottest ass in the world. I don't know what it is about it, but it's perfect, and just thinking about it gets me wet. She used to send dirty pictures of herself to guys online but get me to give my opinions on them first. I think she was half showing off, half genuinely wanting me to look at her naked. So that was how I first saw her ass anyway. We used to hang out from when we were about eighteen to about twenty three, and all the time I knew her she was obsessed with sex. We'd spend hours watching 'hilarious' porn, or talking about sex and guys.

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Dawn awakened from sleep as shadows created by the setting sun etched their shapes on the walls, furniture, and floor of their bedroom, giving the shadows lives of their own. She felt the warm afterglow of pure sensuality that lingered after the very erotic and exciting afternoon of making love with Meghan. Dawn felt totally relaxed from having expended so much physical and emotional energy after being completely intimate with her soul-mate Megan who returned in kind.

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Dear Jenny: You asked for my story of way back then: how did I survive, how did I find strength and acceptance? How did I find love? Yes, I'll tell you, Jenny. You've a right to know, and from what you've written to me about your life now, you need to know.

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My best friend Dee belongs to a sorority. They were having a party tonight and she invited my new boyfriend Brian and I. Not that anybody really needed invitations to a sorority beer bash. Brian picked me up dressed in jeans and a green shirt, looking almost exactly like he did when I first bumped into him. I would have to do something about his wardrobe.

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Vic stood alone in the bedroom, staring at the reflection in the full-length mirror as though taking notes. Dark hair, cropped close. Dark eyes, both by nature and by the distant look of loss in them. Full Mediterranean lips in an olive face. Torso covered by a black t-shirt. The leather jacket that went with it was thrown over a chair. Hips and legs clad in tight faded jeans that covered the tops of lace-up boots.

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