Your erotic stories

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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"What do you think?" I asked Maria, pirouetting on my toes in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. "Its nice, but I still prefer the Versace," she answered, lounging on her bed. We had been trying on clothes all afternoon, raiding her mother's and elder sister's wardrobes. "Would Theresa let me borrow it, do you think?"

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This was the first Summer we rented a house down the Jersey shore. My husband and I never really having a chance to take a good, long vacation. It was needed and well deserved. But, of course, just when we thought a little time together could happen, he was called into work.

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She smiled as she looked out over the deep blue expanse. Her hair fluttered in the western winds as the ship made a gentle turn. Her smile widened as her sandy brown locks caressed her face, able to do what the wind could not. The gentle spray of a crashing wave misted her face and her eyes closed as the gentle touch was nearly too much.

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Jen burst into Christina's room without a least bit of forewarning or hesitation. The ice princess was lying on her stomach on her overly stuffed frilly bed staring at an art history textbook with a blue highlighter between her French manicured fingers.

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I took another reading off the compass Velcroed on the thwart in front of me, and changed sides on the paddle. My arms were feeling a little tired. I’d been paddling for almost an hour and the shore was coming up slowly. I veered a little to the side to round a point and hit the cove I was paddling for. The canoe hissed softly in the wonderfully blue water of the White Partridge Lake. I was far up in the Canadian Province of Ontario in Algonquin Provincial Park

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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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This is a story about unexpected love, about life lived with a blindfold obscuring a glorious reality... Parties are successful sometimes, aren't they? But does everyone look back and say the same thing? To this day I keep telling people – Stephie in particular – that I'm not so sure my party was a great success in itself. But between you and me? Ah, now that's an entirely different story.

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I looked out at the brightness through my frosty window. From the guttering, icicles descended, glistening in the wintry sunshine. I opened the window slightly, inhaling the crisp air. “So beautiful” I whispered as I snapped off the longest icicle and dropped it, watching it spear into the snow below. “Mmm, perfect murder weapon!” I giggled.

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I first saw her at the pool the week after high school graduation. Two of my friends and I were there just to hang out, swim a little, and basically check out the guys. The three of us walked past the lounge chair where she was sitting and reading. I think I was the only one who noticed her, so after we were safely past I asked who she was.

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