Your erotic stories

Rinsing the bubbles from my hair and turning off the steaming hot water, I step out of the shower into the chilly air of the bathroom. Towelling my body dry, I take extra time drying my sensitve nipples and running my hands over them, pinching them softly. I turn on the blow dryer, working my fingers through my tangled hair, working out the snarls and knots. I pick up my brush and begin to dry my hair in earnest when I think I hear a noise downstairs.

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The Luger felt cold and heavy in Anne-Marie's small hand. She hated guns, violence, confrontation, and was by nature timid and reserved. Under normal circumstances she would be home now, or maybe out with Polly at the girl's club, in the underground. I wish I was anywhere but here, she thought. Circumstances were far from normal, for this was Paris in 1943 and Anne-Marie had joined her countrymen in resisting the German invaders.

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