Your erotic stories

I was to be the entertainment for this evening. I knew this. I had freely agreed to it. After all, my sex life had hit a very long dry spell. When Clarissa, one of my girlfriends, had mentioned this club that she belonged to - a "kinky sex club" was her description - it sounded like just what I needed.

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"Bingo, bingo, big money bingo! What's tonight?" "Bingo!" yelled the crowd of families and couples around the pool bar. "Oh Christ get me out of here!" muttered Julie from beneath her floppy sunhat. "I'm so bored!" "We picked the wrong hotel didn't we?" sighed her friend. "The hotel's gorgeous. It's the resort that's wrong." "Hmm...it looked closer to Ayia Napa in the brochure, didn't it?"

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Thinking back on it, I still ask myself, 'Did I really do that?' Let me explain. I owned a small house on the north side of Indianapolis, Indiana. Being young, I think I was 23 at the time, I took on a roommate to help me make ends meet. I knew that over a few years my income would rise to let me comfortably make my house payment, until then, leasing a room seemed to really make sense.

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I rested my neck on the edge of the bathtub and stretched my limbs, luxuriating in the warmth of the foamy water. I surveyed the unfamiliar opulence of my surroundings and sighed with satisfaction. I had learnt on my arrival at the resort hotel in Maui where I was to stay that my confirmed reservation had been deleted by a mysterious glitch in their system and that no rooms were available. Either my panic stricken face or more probably the fact that I am a claims agent for a major marine insurance company persuaded the management to get rid of the problem by upgrading me to a beach side cottage.

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Each year I travel to the convention at Hay on Wye. It's a small town near Monmouth in Wales that has the most amazing river close by where in my teens and early twenties I used to canoe. Now I go to this sleepy area for its once a year awakening where book sellers, buyers and authors come to share tales, ply their trade or just browse and pick up the atmosphere.

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This story has been buried deep inside of me for a long time. I remember all of it very well, almost like it was last week. I've reminisced and re-lived it all many times over the years. Much of it is quite fun to remember. Some of it is bittersweet. Some of it is painful still. When I was out of college and in my early twenties I got a job selling radio advertising in a suburban/rural area, and although new to the region, I became successful in a fairly short time.

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You have this look on your face of intense concentration as you lock the door to the apartment, like a man on a very serious mission. This makes me giggle because I know what we're about to do, and knowing our dirty little secret makes me giddy. You catch my eye: "What are you giggling about?"

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"Now, let me get this straight so it doesn't happen again..." I pressed the back of my hand across my roommate's forehead, frowning a little. His face, though a pale eggshell color only a few seconds ago, quickly came ablaze in a scarlet blush. "You fainted during class because you had a bad night's sleep and missed breakfast," I assessed with an incredulous grimace, "yet you still want to become a paramedic too?"

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The muscle car jammed to a stop, pavement ripping into tires, making a shriek only slightly louder than, say, a 13-inch masonry blade tearing through highway concrete. Choking slightly as acrid smoke of burning rubber washed over me, I ran to the driver's window and quickly negotiated a ride.

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INTRODUCTION Amy Snyder was thrilled when she learned from the head mistress that her uncle would be picking her up on Friday afternoon. Her uncle Richard had arranged with the school to let Amy spend the weekend with him and his employer William Russell at Mr. Russell's estate. Best of all was that Amy was allowed to bring her roommate Beth Hopper along for the weekend. Richard told Amy about the estate and the large swimming pool that was there.

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