Your erotic stories

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The following story involves graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. If such things offend you, please read no further. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story.

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Lauren was a 45-year-old single woman. She was single by choice and not by lack of attention. There were suitors but, she just hadn't found that one, that special person that she had in mind. Sometimes, she wondered if perhaps her standards and expectations were too high. Maybe, although, she doubted that strongly. Her person was out there. She would know it, when they met.

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I was on a business trip to Pittsburgh. Grad school was in the rear view mirror. With it came another promotion, more money, and more travel. I particularly didn't care for the travel part. It meant time away from Julia, who, God knows, is busy enough with her own work. C.F.O. It still brought a smile to my face when I thought of my wife and her job. Three glorious years -- that's how long we've been married.

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The Cayman Islands were so beautiful this time of year, and the weather was really perfect. Much better than in the heat and humidity of the summer. Or so Christina had been told by the hotel staff, anyway. The weather was great, true...a nice cool breeze came in right off that perfect azure-blue glassy sea, and it blew through her hair as she sat quietly at the outdoor hotel bar.

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The water was hot enough to make my nipples get hard as though my body was cold and I was getting into a lukewarm shower. I pulled and tugged at my nipples and my pussy started to drip from more than just the water cascading down my body in tiny rivulets. I had no other plans that night so I let my fingers trail down to my freshly shaven pussy. I quickly got myself off with the jets and my expert hands.

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The small sign hanging in the window of the entryway was innocuous enough. "Oriental Massage" it read simply. If one wasn't paying attention as they drove by, they'd likely miss it, and mistake it for a plain, white house with an odd location. It's not every day that you see a house in the middle of an otherwise commercial/industrial area. But I was observant, and had seen the sign driving to and from work many times. It always piqued my curiosity.

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Natalie settled into her overstuffed armchair, pulled close to the small space heater. The wind howled, rattling the windows as it rattled Natalie's nerves. Sipping hot tea, she stared at her journal opened before her. This was Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and she had been spending the evening focusing on the fact that she was alone, and had been for too long.

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Only one office had lights still on at this hour. The rest of the company had long since gone home on a Friday, but for the young employee the hours drove by with agonizing frustration. Alexa at the age of 18, just graduated from high school and found her first job.

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There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to stop and say to herself, "Where am I now? Where am I going? How did I get here?" And then there are times that those are pretty darn dumb questions. Where am I now? I'm bent over the leading edge of a table. My hands are tied together and the nylon stocking used for that is looped over something on the far side. My stocking toes are barely able to touch the floor and I'm quite stretched out with my bottom in the air.

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Prologue Today I can't believe I'm smitten by her. Me, a thirtyish professor of psychology at a prestigious liberal arts college—smitten—of all things, by a young counter girl just out of high school. "May I help you, Miss?" she asked in an inviting tone. I stood silent and frozen, staring like a cougar. In her early twenties, the young counter girl looked like an angel. Almost old enough to be her mother, I felt stupid.

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