Your erotic stories

I was driving down to Knoxville Tennessee to help my best friend move back up to Michigan. I had a six pack cooler filled with five bottles of Aquafina water and crushed ice sitting on the floorboard on the passenger side. The sixth was wedged between my legs. I was driving a rented Lincoln Town Car straight down I-75 and was screaming through Kentucky when I noticed the upcoming road sign. It was announcing an exit for a road two miles ahead.

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Rain smiled as she walked down the beach with her fiancé and lover, Marina. The Pacific Ocean was so... BIG! It was the first day since their arrival from Alberta, and she had dragged Marina down to the beach before they had even made it to her house.

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Pam is my neighbor of 4 years and over time we've become good friends. In fact there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. We're both in our early 30's and married. I have two kids and Pam just had her first. It was her pregnancy that brought us even closer together.

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I don't know why I did it. Okay, that's a lie, do I know, at least I think I do. First of all, it's fun to be seen as a sex symbol. Not as a porn star, hell no. I'm not a slut. Okay, maybe a wanna-be slut, but I'm a good girl. I didn't go to a Catholic school, but I was raised Catholic and I still believe most of it, okay?

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Determined sunbeams stretched across rumpled bed sheets, inching their way up the pillow in a desperate attempt to kiss the sleepy face resting there. Sheer, white curtains danced on a gentle morning breeze that carried with it the melodic sound of birds chirping in the distance.

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Penny sorted through the mail. The usual lot: bills, catalogs, applications for credit cards. She was about to toss it all aside when a smallish envelope with very flowery handwriting caught her attention. She opened it and read: 'You are cordially invited to a Lady of the Night lingerie party at the home of Kimberly Morgan, this Saturday, the twenty-first at one PM.'

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I didn't want to go. I wasn't really given a choice. I was the manager of the project, the clients were paying our bank sa fortune in fees for the work we were doing, and we had been given to understand from our local team in their home country that when they entertained, they tended towards the more sexy venues.

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Holding the key firmly, I place my gloved hand on the ignition switch. Before turning it I glance at the pile of books on the passenger seat beside me. My breath crystallizes in the chilly air as I count the titles. If I'm missing one, that would be enough to allow myself to get out of this car, out of this weather, and into my warm apartment, my warm bed.

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It was my first big party of the year. I had come with my friend Amanda. Being from a small college in a small town, we often made the drive to the nearest state school, where there was always a party or two on the weekend, especially at the frat houses. Soon after arriving, however, Amanda ran into a group of friends from back home.

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I studied French at university. As part of the deal they sent us all to France and so, at the age of twenty-one, I found myself living in Paris for a year. Some people were teachers. I was a student, though, and I had a great time. But, being a student in Paris, I was anything but rich. Money was always a problem and one way that I tried to make some was by giving private lessons in English.

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