Your erotic stories

The muscles in her arm are stronger than they look. Then again, so are the muscles in my thighs. And our tongues. You only find those things out by working them. And we did...a lot. Our lungs, our throats, our lips, eyes, backs, fingers (especially our fingers)...they all got quite the workout. And that was just the first night!

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I wake in the morning, wrapped in silken sheets. Instinct has me curling my arms close around me. The slide of the sheets causes me to shiver slightly. The newness of the material feels wrong against skin that has felt only rough fabrics. I run my fingers over the scars on my left arm, reassuring myself with a familiar gesture as the night before slowly unfolds in my mind.

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Lynne called the other day and asked to have lunch with me. That could mean only one thing. She had another match for me. Lynne runs a lesbian matching making service that comes perilously close to being an escort service and hence prostitution. The only thing that keeps it legal is the fact that both parties to the match must pay a fee for the introduction. What takes place after the introduction is simply whatever two consenting adults agree to do.

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Rita was sobbing at the kitchen table; she worried how she could survive and take care of her 18 year old daughter Kimberly. The 37 year old mother was distraught; her whole world had turned upside down in an instant. No sooner had Kim went off to school when her husband called to tell her that he cleared out their bank account, was running off with another woman and not to try to find him as he was leaving the country.

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I first met Saskia at an art class. I was posing nude and she was one of the students. When I got the chance to see her painting I let out a gasp. Unlike the others it was clearly me, but me as she interpreted me. My hair, quite blonde in real life was jet black in her painting, but she had captured the way it was styled so beautifully. My skin tone was a lot paler too, much more like hers and my lips were bright red, also like hers.

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When I was 19 I worked four nights a week in a youth club, St. Patrick's Y. C. It was a very popular youth club which attracted children and teenagers from a wide area in the west of the city. The club itself was actually a couple of large huts; the type you might find that act as additional classrooms in some schools. The interior of the club rooms was bright and welcoming and housed a variety of seats, tables, snooker and table tennis table.

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The rippling fire from the fireplace casted a glow over the bedroom suite as Norah sat against the metal headboard with her wrists in silver handcuffs attached to the bars. She waited in trepidation for her kidnapper to make an appearance again. Her prison was a comfortable one for the room gave off a warm and cozy feel that had a wonderful view of the city she had grown up in.

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As the car idles in front of the school, in line with all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, I take out my phone and call you. "Hi, baby," you say, the tension in your voice coming through the line clearly. "Do you need something?" "I was just about to pick up the kids and thought I'd see how your day is going and if you wanted something special for dinner. Is Michaels still breathing down your neck?"

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Security guard isn't the most glamourous job in the world, but it suits me fine. After all, who else gets paid for sitting around watching a monitor all night? It's a bit monotonous, but it gives me time to think. You can go into a kind of zen trance watching all the nothing going on. Lately I had been working this university gig – campus cops. It wasn't bad. I got to walk around a bit, and the worst I had to do was break up a frat brawl or escort a panicky girl back to her dorm.

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Ahh, now I remember why I was willing to come to this silly reunion. The reunion activities were a total bore. I remember why I didn't like these people very much even in college. It's sort of amazing that I married Jim; he likes them well enough. I was bored and went out for my walk. But here, in my own special place, this is my favorite place from college. It's a little wooded glade right near the stream that cuts off the northern corner of campus.

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