Your erotic stories

Hi, my name is Nerida Lawson and this is the story of how I lost my innocence. But first let me tell you a little about myself. I am an Australian now living off the coast of Washington State on an island near Dark Harbor. This is perfect for me as it is only a few hours to Seattle and my agent but isolated enough that I can do my art work uninterrupted.

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Sara stared at her friend lying on the couch watching TV. She couldn't get over the fact that she had turned into such a beautiful woman since she had seen her last. It had been about five years ago when Michelle had chose to move to a different state to start over in a new life after her divorce. Michelle had had a rough marriage to Tyler for three years and it had showed in how she had kept her self-back then. Never dressing up, putting on make-up or even caring if her hair was fixed.

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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 groaned softly as I settled back at my desk, reaching down surreptitiously to massage one of my calves. "Too many trips to the copier again, Jessica?" My boss asked me sympathetically on her way by with her third cup of coffee. I heaved a deep sigh, starting to respond, but she was already back through her office door, letting it swing mostly closed as she settled in, sipping her coffee.

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This story was written at the request of, and for a fan. She knows who she is, and I hope the pleasure she gets from the story does not fade too quickly. You sit at your computer, searching for and finding exquisite pictures of exquisite women, your senses already heightened at the sight of them, your attention completely on the screen, your mind and thoughts filled with visions of that special dream lover, the one that can take you to those places you crave, those sensations for which you yearn.

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My face is blank. My eyes stare calmly ahead, but my mind is racing. I'm sitting in the waiting room of my gynaecologists office, trying to think of anything but my discomfort and excitement. The seats are hard with a squishy cushion - the kind that makes noise every time you shift your weight. I'm frozen. I wore a short jean skirt today, something that is strangely uncommon for me, but I completely forgot I had this appointment.

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For me, coming to terms with what I am was like being born. It was something that happened when I was naked, wet and crying. I'm not really sure what it was that got me to realizing it. A long string of dates with 'the hot guy' that always left me feeling... well, feeling something. What I'm not sure. It was in the less than warm afterglow of yet another of those encounters that I was dragged kicking and screaming to the new spa that opened up nearby.

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My girlfriend and me are a couple of kinky freaks who like to go what we call "slutting". That's when we find ourselves a foxy young babe or two, usually but not always dykes like us, bring them home, and then get real down and dirty until the wee, wee hours of the morning. One night last week we had picked up this delicious looking young lesbian model at a dyke bar we frequent, a gorgeous African-American knockout with silky mocha-hued skin.

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Patrice Mueller couldn't suppress a resigned sigh as she looked around the living room. It wasn't that it was dirty; it was that it looked fine. The whole house looked fine: a tastefully appointed exemplar of a white bread middle class dwelling. It was tidy, warm and cozy without a hint of ostentation.

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Misty strode confidently into the student center at her university that spring afternoon. She had just gotten out of her least favorite class, and had in her hands the test from last week. The surprising "97%" was written on the top in a red pen. Now she could just check her mail, and sit down and read for a few hours until dinnertime with her friends.

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