Your erotic stories

Kiara tried to focus on what her professor was saying, but she was finding it increasingly difficult, as thoughts of last night's events kept on replaying in her mind. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she noticed the dampness in the panties she was wearing. She finally gave up on trying to concentrate on the professor, and rested her pen down on her notes.

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I've always loved Paris art cinemas. These old, worn-out theatres, showing forgotten films in bad state, smelling of rotten fabric and dust, nowhere in the world is quite like them. There is something special about Parisian art-house cinemas; the very bohemian meets the very snotty, the richness of the film and the beauty on the screen conflicting with the nastiness of the space and people.

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