Your erotic stories

ONE Randi surveyed the large hotel suite as the bellboy took care of her luggage. The room offered two plush queen beds and a large front living area with two leather couches, a wet-bar with a marble top and a gas fireplace. She tipped the belloy handsomely even though she caught him openly leeering at her on numerous occasions. Although in her late forties with two children in school, Randi Boehmon could still turn heads. A petite woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes set above high cheekbones, she was oftentimes told that she resembled Kelly Ripa.

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I thought I could feel the individual rays of sun on my chest, heating my skin and hopefully contributing to the tan I was working on that summer. Even through my eyelids the Greek sun shone a bright white. Sweat dripped down my temples. While I'd been at the beach for an hour and a half already, I'd only been tanning for 20 of those minutes, and I knew I had maybe 5 more, hopefully 10, before I had to jump in the Mediterranean to cool off.

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All characters in this story are over 21. It is completely fictional. I have picked up immediately from where Part 1 ended. Even though we were going to be hanging out, we had a family tradition where my mother would not accept jeans or sweats for Thanksgiving. It was understood that we would dress "up". I put on a Blue, button down shirt, tie, and khaki pants and dress shoes which I laughingly referred to as the man uniform.

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The night was thick, hot, and humid, the air filled with the menace of an impending thunderstorm as Zanny walked hurriedly down the dark and empty street. She knew she must be crazy to be out in this neighborhood at this time of night, dressed as she was, and yet this was the third night in a row that she’d been compelled by some unknown need to dress in her best clothes, her sexiest underthings, sheer stockings, her black pumps, and take a cab down to the center of this forlorn industrial wasteland where she would walk alone through these dangerous and deserted streets, wandering slowly, the sharp rap of her heels loud in the darkness.

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As abbot of a monastery I sometimes need to add new monks to the fold. Our previous prior was replaced by my male lover Matthew. Matthew was our computer guru and I needed another monk to fill a position. Coming to a monastery isn't like in the old days. I need people who can serve a purpose and have modern days skills in a field. I spoke to Matthew and he asked who I was going to bring in.

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I saw Alison for the first time in a little shop around the coastline from where I live. As you can see from my bio', I’m a teenaged girl, or woman, according to your views on the matter. I’m also trying to sort out my sexual identity and as you will see from this story I’m reaching the conclusion that while I like, and might one day enjoy men, especially those who know what a woman needs, I tend towards women and in particular those a little older than me. This is the story of my road to that realisation.

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CHAPTER 1 Caleb Hunter had this recurring thing in his head about returning to the room and the woman sprawled on the bed, covered in sweat after having had sex with him, the moonlight coming in through the window and highlighting her, breeze fluttering the curtains. She'd opened her glistening eyes and coo, "Are you ready to fuck me again darling?"

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The dictionary defines Valentine- a sweetheart chosen or complimented on Valentine's Day. I'm not sentimental or for that matter sensitive. At least, that is what I've often been told. You are so closed off! Unreachable! I disagree. I happen to have had a perfectly good reason for keeping my heart locked up. The problem, in my opinion, was with the people who never tried to slip by the barriers.

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"You okay?" I wiped a tear that was streaming down my face before turning toward the voice behind me. It was Jennifer who sat in the desk next to me at work. "I'm fine." I said. "You don't look fine." "It's my boyfriend. I found out he was seeing someone else and I just called him to tell him it's over. That's all."

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I fastened my seat belt and started the car, sighing with relief to be leaving work early for once. As I drove to the first stop light my car started sputtering. It was then that I noticed the fuel gauge was on empty. I had forgotten to fill the gas tank. Luckily, I spotted a gas station right across the street and began to pray that I would make it there.

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