Your erotic stories

"Honey, are you going to get up off that couch and help me with anything today, or am I going to have to get nasty about it?" Jill asked half-teasingly of her husband, Chet. It was nearly one o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and as far as she was concerned they were already an hour behind schedule. They were supposed to go out around five for an evening of celebrating, but she had plenty she still had to get done.

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For the past couple of years, I've been singing and playing music in a Celtic band, a five member acoustic ensemble specializing in the traditional music of Scotland, Ireland and England. My husband Kevin and I are Pagans, followers of the ancient fertility religion of the Celts. Kevin's been an enthusiastic supporter of my work with the band, seeing how much the music and good fellowship recharges me, and the money helps out, too.

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Her Frame of Mind Boredom! Absolute boredom! And of course, the elixir, alcohol was part of the equation! How else could one explain a reasonably attractive, articulate, mostly responsible thirty-six year old woman going to a roach palace motel with the intent of fucking two men she hardly knew? It began late on a Friday night. With her second scotch in hand she wandered about her room wondering what she could possibly do next to make the night go faster.

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I can still see it in high def, up close and personal; the image is engraved on my brain. The bald, glistening vulva of a teenage girl — a squirming, moaning teenage girl, knees up — is not to be forgotten. The best night of my life was the night my sister had a slumber party. To save money during my last year of college, I moved back in with my parents and commuted from their home in a Boston suburb.

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Sometimes you have to struggle hard to get laid, and sometimes the sex just comes to you. I remember in my second year at Uni, my mate Greg and I went out for a night around the clubs in London. We knew our way around these places by that stage. The first place was pretty rough, but Greg and I were both in the karate club and had achieved black belt level, so we weren't worried too much by some of the more blatant male posturing going on.

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I gripped the seat with excitement as the driver turned off of Thomas and into the crowded parking lot of the Veterans Memorial Coliseum in downtown Phoenix Arizona. It was a warm August night in 1982, and the spotlights from the arena caught the flinty dust in the air, creating a sparkling light show above the gravel parking lot as the sleek white limousine headed up to the main entrance. I glanced at Andrea, who was sitting beside me grinning madly.

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She comes over after rehearsal for a drink or two around the kitchen island. You've been talking with her for the last couple of months about our sex life- it's been no secret that there was something powerfully sexual that brought us together, but most of our colleagues, although curious, just won't ask about it. But the two of you have been friends for a very long time and she's always been both inquisitive and supportive.

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Prologue Stacy and I met as sorority sisters in college and have been soul sisters since. Our relationship blossomed into true sisterhood in a way only possible as roommates in a sorority house. We both arrived at college looking for more than a good education; we came to have fun. It was like showing up for a four-year all-inclusive vacation with academic requirements on the side. Three years after graduating, we are now 25 and working. Little else has changed.

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This is an erotic, short story about a St. Patrick's Day party at my best friend's house. She's a year younger then me, and Irish, so she loves to get drunk. I arrive at her house relatively early, but the party has already started. Her parent's are out, and so is her brother, so there's no fear of embarrassments. Of course, she's already drunk and welcomes me with a deep french kiss. She's never done that before.

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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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