Your erotic stories

I walked into my dorm room and sighed in relief. It smelled like beer, sweat and sex, but at least it was quiet. It was Friday night and my roommate Matt went out earlier with his girlfriend Sandra. They liked to party heavily, especially on the weekend. They also both liked to fuck like rabbits when they got back from a night out and usually they were so drunk they didn't care if they had an audience or not, or more likely, didn't notice. The good news was that they tended to get it over with fast and pass out.

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I remember the first night my roommate, Emily, went sleepwalking. I was having trouble falling asleep due to mid-term exams, stressing about my grades, and horny as hell because I hadn't had a date in f-ing forever since I wanted to focus on my studies. Emily was having troubles, too, but not with her schoolwork.

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Courtney had always been intrigued by thoughts of being with another woman. In her small town though, it was a taboo never to be acted upon. She dated plenty of guys in High School, even allowing one to take her virginity, yet, none of those relationships were fulfilling for her. She felt something was missing, a void that would be filled by time spent with her close female friends, yet even then, she knew there was something more, something unattainable at the time.

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My dear sisters: I have been asked to give a history of my experience with Priapus, and my part in the revival of his ceremony. I trust that this account will not leave the walls of this sorority house. Here, as best I can recall and recount it, is the story. When I was in college in the early seventies, it was a very different environment than it is today. We were all so much more innocent than girls are now.

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When I got to college, I was the only freshman in the senior dorm. I had planned to go to another school but at the last minute I changed my mind. Richards Institute where I had originally planned to go had a wonderful fine arts program, which was my field; but I had been accepted at Rodgers University, and when push came to shove I just couldn't give up the opportunity to go to one of the Big League schools. So by the time I decided to go to Rodgers and applied for a room, the freshman dorms were all filled.

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No vehicles had gone by in either direction for over 45 minutes. The sun was starting to go behind the hills and I was thirsty. I got out my stove collected water from the creek near by and started a brew of Earl Grey with two sugars. The water was just starting to bubble when a car pulled up, a rather fine lady in her late forties got out and came round to stand in front of me and said "Well you look like you've given up trying for a lift. Tell you what, you make me a cup of tea, I might make you an offer you can't refuse"

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Becky Freeman couldn't believe her luck. Here she was, an eighteen-year-old girl visiting a sorority house at the college she planned on attending in the fall, stuck sitting bored on a couch instead of exploring campus or checking out any of the weekend parties. As part of the school's orientation program she was paired up with one of the current students as a chaperone of sorts.

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"Hey red, got four quarters for a dollar?" Melodie Taylor looked up quickly from her book of poetry at the sound of the loud contralto voice. Startled, she thought she would be alone here in the Westside Laundromat. It was after eleven PM and she didn't like being off campus this late, but it was necessary. Studying for her finals had put her way behind in her washing and her sorority sisters in Gamma House were using all the machines in their basement.

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"Professor Hart?" She peered hesitantly around the doorframe. The professor sat at his desk, on the phone. Without interrupting his conversation, he nodded at her, pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk and gestured for her to close the door behind her. She sat, staring aimlessly around the room while he finished his conversation.

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One often wonders if their life really has any meaning at all, or if it is just some big cosmic joke where supernatural beings are laughing and pointing at our misfortune, all the while eating a large bucket of overly buttered popcorn and drinking something unnaturally sweet. This thought has often plagued me. Especially when circumstances would lead me to tell the guy I really liked that I liked him after I had hidden it so well, while precautious perched on a tree limb. Yep. I'm fairly positive my very existence is merely for someone else's amusement.

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