Your erotic stories

My career as a body painter has introduced me to some interesting people. Call them characters, if you must. But, understandably, a person willing to have their naked body turned into a canvas is going to be somewhat...extroverted. I've always thought exhibitionist was a cruel description for my subjects. In fact, if I do my job correctly the public should not know that the subject is naked.

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My boyfriend and I had talked about doing a threesome for a while and finally found another guy. I had told the BF I wanted to try double-penetration and he seemed into it. Him and I had done anal together and we both liked it. So that night, once the two guys and I were naked, I used my talented mouth to get them both hard, having them stand on either side of me as I knelt between them.

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"So what do you think of the neighbors?" I asked. My parents' neighbors, to be perfectly accurate. Molly and I were house-sitting while my parents were in Europe, and I'd just taken her over to meet the Levines. We'd had a nice chat and they'd invited us to dinner the next night. "I like them," Molly said. "They seem a little flashy for this neighborhood, though, don't you think?" Molly grew up in Manhattan and has a low opinion of my suburb of origin.

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I first heard from Rachel last May. She'd read my account of the threesome in a Bristol hotel I'd had and wanted to tell me how much it turned her on. She wrote: "Hi Deepblue32 -- liked A Story a lot. I was turned on pretty much from the first paragraph and I lost count of the number of times I came. God, when both you and Louise were cumming on Abby I don't think I've ever cum so hard.

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Amy looked at the card in her hand. A dentist's appointment, that wasn't going to be good. It didn't seem to matter how well she brushed her teeth, she always seemed to manage to need to have some sort of work done that required a filling. And that meant a needle. She hated needles of any sort and when they were putting them in her mouth, all she wanted to do was scream, but couldn't.

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"I'll take a double," said Dan as he settled onto the couch. "On it," Megan called back as she took the bottle of rum from Kara and pulled it to her lips. She took a wet swig and then topped off three full glasses. The girls' ground floor apartment was just down the path from the pool. After a good swim, the invitation for a drink sounded just right.

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I sat in my Jacuzzi just opposite the strongest jet in the tub. My legs were slightly parted and my head was tilted back. My eyes closed, and my mind conjuring up thoughts of Rick and all the erotic moments we had shared this past week. Some say that the mind is the most fertile wonderland in which to cultivate sexual satisfaction.

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Like a swirl of murky water shifting and clearing, Amber slowly drifted out of slumber and opened her eyes to narrow slits, getting used to the morning light as she lay, waking, in bed. Yet something was wrong. First of all, her bed had never felt this hard, and there were no blankets or bed sheets either. As her still muddled mind slowly drifted out of sleep, struggling to understand what was happening, a chill like a tiny spark of electricity shot up her spine and blossomed into warm pleasure as it reached her head.

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It was a normal Saturday in June. I had just returned from the joys of supermarket shopping and was laden down with bags and trying to open my front door when my cell phone rang out. Cursing I managed to free the sticking door lock and simultaneously opened the door put down the shopping and answered my phone.

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François Renard was a stagehand and handyman at the theater of the Ballet De Paris. He was a huge man, almost seven feet tall with wide shoulders and hands large and strong enough to crush a coconut, but he was very gentle giant. Most of those who saw him thought he was slow witted because he seldom spoke. Also he had a foolish smile which came out any time Monsieur Tibault the theater manager scolded him, or if one of the dancers from the corps de ballet made fun of him.

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