Your erotic stories

It was Sunday afternoon at the library. Ellen, the library's director, paused to watch her young page struggle with rearranging the furniture in the new teen area. Getting things set up was hard work and it was a good thing they had come in when the library was closed. They needed the extra time and the activity would have disturbed the patrons during normal hours.

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"I can't believe you're making me do this," Natalie said as she stood on the hotel balcony at three a.m. with the wind blowing through her strawberry-blonde hair. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, and though she didn't see any signs of life, someone down in the darkness would be a lot harder to see than she would be on the balcony — dimly lit as it was. She could see the excitement in Gene's eyes as he caressed her shoulder. "You lost the bet fair and square."

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I was fucking tired of Blair's teasing. That young woman had enjoyed tormenting me since I moved in next door. She would wear the tightest, skimpiest outfits that she could squeeze her body into. After a night of partying, she would come home and start undressing by the window, "accidentally" forgetting it was open and facing mine.

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I thought at the time I had the worst luck in the world. There I was, standing on the shoulder of an interstate somewhere in Western Pennsylvania, eighteen wheelers rumbling by as I stared at my 1982 Toyota Celica. I'd opened the hood to see if I could figure out what was wrong, but had no clue. A few minutes earlier it started making a worrisome thumping sound and then stalled out. I was barely able to maneuver my way onto the shoulder safely.

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"Hi ya," I jumped at the unexpected voice and fought not to drop the drink I was holding. "What the fuck!" I gasped. Just as I lost my fight, and watched as my beer spilled out on the lawn. I glanced towards where the voice had come from, the next door neighbours garden. What I saw increased my shock immensely. Standing in the garden, now laughing softly at me, was a stunning blonde haired young woman. She was wearing just a small red thong and nothing else, which gave me a good look at her body.

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I want to tell you what I have planned for the next time Mollie and I get together. She is by far and away the most incredibly sexy women on the face of this planet, completely without inhibitions or hang-ups, totally devoted to pleasing me and allowing me to please her. But before I get to our next encounter, let me share with you some of the details of our first time together, and you will immediately see how lucky I am that I found her, and why everything I plan to do with her will culminate in intense satisfaction for both of us.

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"Paging Miss Summers. Miss Summers, please proceed to the General Office." The bleep of the PA system sent a spark of excitement – or was it relief? – through me. It was the third day of the open house for Junior Colleges, and this was the first time that I'd been beeped to meet with a student or parent.

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Note from author: This is my second submission, and my first lesbian story. All participants are of legal age, and are consenting. This story contains explicit sexual descriptions, if you get offended by this, please do not read.

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The summer was just kicking off and the heat was turning up. The apartment building I lived in, which was normally packed with college students, was all but deserted. Cassie and Emily had both gone home for the summer. Cassie would come and visit but for the most part, I was on my own this summer. It wasn't a week before I started to just leave my apartment door open hoping that someone, anyone would else would be in the building.

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It was Halloween and I was excited. I love Halloween; more specifically, I love dressing up for Halloween. I typically spend all year planning my costume, leading up to the big night when I would go out with my husband and our friends for a night on the town. This year I had dressed up as a British policewoman, with a short black pencil skirt, knee length black boots, and a snug white dress shirt with a black and white checked cravat.

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