Your erotic stories

The Visit As Suzanne lay on the bed and reached under her friend's black lacy bra to feel her firm round breasts and engorged nipples, and their tongues hungrily searched each others mouths, she thought back to the events which led to this moment - the email offering her a week in the countryside, away from the kids and the chance to unwind in the sun, skinny dipping in the pool together and have some great chats with one of her best friends.

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I'd gone to the kitchen in Jay's apartment to get myself a sparkling water from the fridge—we couldn't drink what we'd really like to drink during the performance season—when his doorbell rang, and he let his landlord in. I just stayed out of sight in the kitchen, because I knew this was going to be unpleasant and I didn't want the landlord, who I'd heard was a real ass, to get the idea that I'd moved in with Jay after Dalton died. Which I hadn't, and I didn't think there was any chance Jay would let me.

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I’ve been single for about six months now, and had been invited over to Jay and Maria’s for dinner. I was looking forward to getting out of my flat. Jay is one of my best friends – we have known each other since we were five years old. Jay is my age, average height, and has close-cropped hair as he started going bald a few years ago. He is fairly fit though, and keeps in shape running and cycling.

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Miles stared intently at the Sharpie pen clenched so tightly in his grip that his knuckles were blanched white, at the lined notebook opened to a fresh, new page. It was college ruled, perforated, with exactly thirty-three blue lines running horizontally across each page. He'd studied it with such intensity, such scrutiny, noting every detail about it that his vision was beginning to blur.

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Jenna could not believe what was happening. There she was, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, watching her best friend Lisa going at it with her boyfriend Shane, who also just happened to be Jenna's ex. Unbelievable... The two girls had been the best of friends since they were about 10 or 11 years old, as close as sisters even, and had remained as tight for the next decade or so.

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It was getting late and the party was showing signs of winding down. One by one our guests said their good-byes and took their leave until, by 2 AM, only myself, my husband David, and our best friend Jesse were left sitting at the small bar tucked in the corner of the dining room. The three of us were contemplating the last shimmering red jello shot that remained sitting on the bar. I picked it up and slurped it out of its small plastic cup, savoring the combined flavors of sweet cherry jello and vodka.

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Jenny and Tim were in bed after a long, tiring day of shopping and visiting family. Jenny was wearing a matching pair of blue shorts and camisole, while Tim wore only his boxers Jenny's head was resting on Tim's shoulder as they watched TV. They talked about the day and eventually were telling each other stories from their childhood about various family members.

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In the spring of 1969 I landed a job as the overnight DJ on a radio station in Seattle. I was the only person in the station during most of my shift and enjoyed talking to listeners who called to request songs or just wanted to talk to someone. One of my regular callers, Kristy, had a pleasant voice and a thing for a particular Linda Ronstadt song. She would call two or three times a week for that song, telling me that she couldn't get to sleep unless she heard it.

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