Your erotic stories

He left me. Because of him I moved to this fucking city, away from my family and friends, away from my comfortable little world. I sit here in my small room, with nothing to comfort me except my cigarettes and bottle of cheap wine. Tomorrow I will feel even worse; lovesickness and headache is a bad mixture. The moon laughs down at me, his ugly yellow mug deriding me. I throw the cork of the bottle at him, but it only bangs against the window-glass.

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"It may be a perverted taste, but I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects ... The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements - lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact, muscular frenzy, the clink of gold - that to peer into it makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!" - Gustav Flaubert

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Jasmine and I have been seeing each other for about three years now. Although I was totally in love with her, I have to admit I was getting a little bored with our sex life, and I found my eyes were straying a little more than they should. I most definitely did not want to cheat on her, though, so I figured it was time to try and make her into a three-input lady.

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I notice her as soon as she enters the room, but then who wouldn't? She's a hot little number, about 5'4", I'd say, early thirties, all pink and blonde. Her hair falls in soft waves just below her chin and she's wearing the classic black dress that always looks so good on a someone like her.

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Ah yes, she's here again - the girl. I've been watching her for several weeks now. She and her friends hang out at the pool where I live. Several of them must be sub-letting for the summer because there's no way a college student could afford to live here on a regular basis. Then again, who knows? Parents give their kids everything these days.

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