Your erotic stories

Thump, thump, thump goes the bed above us in the ancient rhythm of sex. I glance up at the ceiling with a look that is part annoyance, part envy and part wonder. (I wouldn't lose my virginity for another 4 years.)

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I've spent every Friday and Saturday evening over the last three months sitting at a small table near the corner of the stage at the Magic Dancer Club. I have a few drinks and enjoy the show as the various ladies strut their stuff on the big stage. It's a very nice club if you happen to be into exotic dancing. It's an upscale club with an affluent white-collar clientele. The floor is covered with expensive deep-pile carpeting, except in the lobby, which has fancy marble flooring.

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I lay on my side, on my expensive 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. At that moment I felt childish for crying like a baby. People died all the time and no one knew that better than me. As a heart surgeon it was my job to repair the otherwise irreparable and I was good at my job. Years of careful planning and dedication had gotten me that.

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Note: The first story in this 'series' is "Danni Gets Her Wish." You don't really need to read it to understand this one, but I might write more stories that involve previous ones I've written. This story is told from Danni's roommate's perspective.

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Brooke II: Finding Allison entered the bedroom, reached for the buttons of her blouse and whispered, "Cool." The young woman strutted as if she owned the room. She peeled off her top and short denim skirt, and circled the bed in nothing but a dampened thong. Her blue eyes flashed and her straight brunette hair steamed behind. The lean body dripped sexuality. At that moment Allison did own the room.

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Heather is my new girlfriend, although I've known her since college. When I knew her then, she had this hyper-curly dark hair and these hot blue eyes. Now, almost ten years later, her hair is still curly, but dyed a stylish light brown. Her eyes are still intense, and her body has filled out into a full, mature figure, with a tendency to be sweetly plump if she stops exercising for a while.

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Talk about the boot being on the other foot! Talk about the biter bitten! I never thought that I would be head-hunted, tempted – no, seduced – into leaving our Florida office, where I was top bitch, and joining a rival company in a subordinate role. But here I was. Yes, Marie la Reine d'Ecosse, former butt-buster, was now Mary Queen of Sod-all, in an office up north. The salary was better by sixty percent, the status was good, the benefits were amazing, in fact I would have had to have been insane to turn the job down.

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The sun shone blindingly, its radiance and emanating warmth serving as a deceitful mirage, a false comfort that belied the earth's frigid cold. Yet, its beauty was genuine, reminiscent of vintage holiday greeting cards. The snow sparkled with what seemed like an endless bounty of fragmented diamonds, its vast blanket spread out across pure expanses of slopes and dipping valleys, their virginity untouched by the invasive violations of civilization.

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On a whim Dottie had decided to accept the invitation and spend the weekend here at this beach front cottage. All the drive down she wondered and wondered if she had made the right decision but kept pushing doubts out her mind until now she was standing on the front porch.

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My wife and I were out at a bar for a night out. Away from the kids who were staying at my mothers for the night. We had been discussing various topics. Mostly how my wife, Shannon, wanted to remodel the kitchen, when there was one of those inordinately long pauses in the conversation. I looked across the table at my pretty wife and saw her take a deep breath and close her eyes for a moment. Then she said it.

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