Your erotic stories

When Lyle Quigley went to the grocery store that afternoon in June, he was expecting to pick up a few things he wife asked him to pick up and get back to enjoy the peaceful solitude of his house while the wife was at work.

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My Name is Alison, I have lived in California for over five years, and I won't lie to you. I do have plenty of money. You see I was married briefly before my husband left me for another woman, during my divorce, I got half of his estate which was, well quite a lot of money, with this money I bought a new house, secluded and out of the way, surrounded by a large rear garden with a huge swimming pool and hot tub. Around six months ago my twin sister Mia split with her fiancé of three years, she was devastated.

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It started in the restaurant - two women and a guy - they had found each other through various internet links - friendships had been made - thoughts and fantasies exchanged. There was anticipation in the air - it had taken many months to all get in this booth together.

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"Really, Sidonie," I said. "I didn't come to New Orleans just so I could help you keep your kinfolk in order!" My friend from college days grinned at me, lifting a rake through her big chestnut hair. Gavin, her husband, sat on the bed patiently channel-surfing while she finished getting gussied up for their evening out on the town. She was dressed in a red satin shirt, black leather pants and Doc Martens, and Gavin was equally street- and party-ready, although far less dramatic, in chinos and a polo shirt.

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I had one year to go in my studies, at university, for my degree in public relations, arts, and media studies. I was starting to get a bit desperate for money. All my university bills were due. I was working part time in a coffee shop, but that had more or less stopped, since I had refused to have sex with the owner, even though he offered to pay me 200 dollars. I just did not fancy his big fat sweaty body on mine, and I knew he would want more and more if I agreed.

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When I caught the flashing lights out of the corner of my eye, I froze. My muscles instantly tensed up and I recognized the sensation of warm adrenaline flooding my veins. not again. With apprehension, I glanced down at the speedometer. 40 in a 25.

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Paris would have been my first choice, With perhaps Rome or Amsterdam second. But Hamburg? It was hardly tourist-land. But Wendy's name had been on the entry form and she had chosen Hamburg. "We've been to all the others." She said. It had been one of those "You have been chosen..... " things, which come through the letterbox most days. I had always thought that nobody actually won anything. Wendy had been in one of her 'enter everything' moods and had won second prize.

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"Ever feel like you're not really you? Like you're just an actor pretending to be somebody?" That's exactly what I am right now - an actress stepping into costume. The same costume I wear every day. Mascara, blush, mini-skirts, tights, sleeveless blouses. I wished I had said that, but I just muttered "uh-huh" as if I were just placating her.

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We meet in a bar, me, my best sissyboy painslut & you. We are all dressed in everyday office attire; you boys look so professional in your suits. I have on a tight white blouse which strains a little at the buttons, the sheer lace of my bra clearly showing through; a straight black skirt, net stockings & heeled patent black pumps. There are other such groups in the bar & we don't look out of place as we choose a quiet corner table;

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I hung up the phone and waited to be buzzed in, maneuvering the box in my left arm so I could see my watch. Shit. Five after eight. Almost on time. Well, if I was going to be late, this was the night to do it. The normally frigid March weather was glorious. Most of the snow had melted and I'd opted for sandals instead of my usual choice of sneakers. How'd I gotten stuck babysitting on a Saturday night like this again?

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