Your erotic stories

Sebastian could tell that she was upset, but was not quite sure if he should attempt to console her, or for that matter, exactly how he would go about approaching her with an offer of comfort. He had seen the despondent expression she had been wearing on her face all night and thought that she looked like she might be about to cry when she excused herself from the table and left the banquet hall to go upstairs to her hotel room. He had quickly said goodnight to his dining companions at the next table and followed her to the lobby, not totally sure of what he was intending to do if, and when, he caught up with her.

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It started off as a stupid joke, one of those things sororities want entering freshmen to do during rush week. All the older sisters in the house I was most interested in voted that all the new freshman pledges would have to try anal sex before the end of the semester. If we wanted to join up, we'd have to take it up -- up the ass, that is.

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The soft patter of rain that began to pelt against the roof grabbed my attention, and I paused, setting my fiery-red lipstick back on the wooden vanity below me. "Shit." I muttered to myself, disgruntled. The weather forecast hadn't called for rain earlier in the morning, so I'd decided on a costume with more involved makeup. I'd planned on arriving at the annual Crowley Halloween ball dressed as a sexy version of Harley Quinn, my favorite character.

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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.

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His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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When I met Tammy she had two kids, Cindy, fourteen and Thomas, five. Tammy was married to Thomas' father, John. They'd been together for six years. I have no idea how they made it that long. She despised the guy, hated him from the very start. She got together with him on account of his dick. Apparently, the guy was hung like a regular horse. And he had money. The Roth family lived under a cloud of recriminations, always short of all-out violence.

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Summer vacation was winding down fast, taking with it the last vestiges of freedom that my sisters and I had been so thoroughly enjoying. All too soon, I would be starting my senior year in high school and it would be back to dull grind of boring routine. "Samuel T. Young, you need a haircut, young man!"

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In my world nothing is ever random even when it seems to be, because random in my world leads to chaos, uncontrollable chaos which seemed to follow me despite how cautious I could be at times both personally and professionally.

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I had been waiting at the airport for hours when I finally heard the announcement that my flight had been cancelled and there wouldn't be another one until the next day. I was going to visit my sister in California but now my departure would have to wait until tomorrow. So I headed to the parking garage for my car and headed home.

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"Thin" isn't a word anyone has ever used to describe me. "Beautiful" isn't either. But "sexy"? Well, that's another story. It's funny how long it takes us to come to a realization of who we really are. For me, it took just over 40 years. My whole life I'd struggled with the weight of my own expectations—always wanting to be fifteen or twenty pounds lighter, to have better cheekbones, to have my hair be a better color or my complexion a little better.

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