Your erotic stories

Brooke asked if I would write this story. The theme is interracial lesbian domination. All the characters are real. All references to people and photographs are real. I've simply inserted myself into her world. The story ends at my last point of contact with Brooke. There may be more to come.

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Laure awoke mid-moan, rolling forwards, pressing herself against the flat warmth of the bed. Eyes still closed, a dull pain registered a fraction of a second after the waking of pleasure. The dryness of the roof of her mouth, the slowness of her tongue, and the thick weight of a movement induced headache contrasted strangely with the spreading heat of her groin and the languidity of her limbs.

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This Ella's story. She is real, as are Dani and Gabrielle. Part of the story is true... the rest is Ella's fantasy. I've reflected exactly what she told me. For those who don't enjoy stories with interracial lesbian domination or reluctance and coercion as their themes, thank you for stopping by but please pass on.

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It was 'First Tuesday', the night each month that all the art galleries were open for their new exhibits. I dressed up a little nicer than my normal daily fare. Sure, I clean up well. There was just a hint of cleavage, maybe more than a hint, maybe a lot more. I liked to think my breasts were one of my better parts. I enjoyed them even though there wasn't anyone currently in my life to share them with. Judy had enjoyed them for sure, oh how I loved her lips around my nipples, or my clit, oh yes my clit.

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I hadn't expected the job I had started a few months ago to involve quite so much travelling, but it did and I enjoyed it. With my corporate lawyer husband shuttling almost every other week between London and New York and my two children at university, I had become bored at home. I had worked freelance for some time editing magazine articles and a few books, but that didn't get me out of the house much so a few months ago I had applied for and gained a job with a publishing house as a Style Coordinator;

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Author's Note: Another girl/girl love story. Any similarities to one that came before it is intentional/based on what I like. If inclined, the songs referenced throughout are what I listened to while writing it and may help set the mood. The artists, though, bear no responsibility for the sappiness/silliness they inspired.

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Jenna realized when Kat's boyfriend drove off she was alone with her friend, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable for a brief moment. At almost five foot four, Jenna was average height, blonde and buxom. Despite not being a California native, many people assumed she was a stereotypical surfer girl when they met her.

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With every stitch of her clothing saturated to the skin and every fiber of her being chilled to the bone by the driving and frigid January rain, Donna Mitchell's mind was comprised of only one thought: A stiff drink sure would be wonderful! Though it had been six months since Donna had her last drink of alcohol before joining AA, she could still taste the crisp and clean bite of an icy cold Budweiser sliding down her throat.

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I met Jesse at a mutual friend's summer garden party. Moira was by some margin the poshest person I knew. As rich as god from family inheritances, she was married to a successful lawyer and was by some margin the social queen of the area where I lived.

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I've told no one of my little summer secret; just held it dear to me, and pulled it from my memory when I've needed a special moment for myself... a very special, private moment that would never be the same, once shared. Now, I'm breaking my rule and telling you, My Journal, for I've promised to hold no secrets from you.

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