Your erotic stories

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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"Sure" you texted me. It was a simple, unvarnished word, but in this instance, laden miraculously with the stuff of utter elation. I had arranged a trip out to the mountains on a pretext with the hope of seeing you for the first time. It was a very adult thing, I reflected on the flight over.

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I arrived a little early to my second date with Chloe. I was nervous. She was definitely a cool girl, but she had a mischievous aura about her - I never knew what she would do next. I guess that would be expected because for all intents and purposes she really was still a stranger, but I felt a crazy kind of energy being around her. Tonight I was picking her up at her apartment, a nice place downtown.

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Date?! I stared at Kenji, mouth open. "Are you serious?" "Well, why not?" he asked, sitting down again. "Your ghost isn't going anywhere, so rather than sitting around twiddling our thumbs, waiting for Pinky, let's go out and do something." I looked at him in silence.

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I pulled into the driveway only to see the form of my mother standing on the front porch waiting for me to come home. She looked angry and her arms were folded across her chest, I did not want to go inside. She must have already heard how my date with the daughter of my mother's best friend had gone.

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"Please. Please...don't stop," I begged, hot and desperate. Right now, I thought as my mind raced, I'd give anything for the tongue that was buried deep in my pussy to send me over the edge. It was beyond skilled, having brought many girls before me to orgasm after orgasm with its quick flicks and expert movements. I moved my arms in an attempt to grab a fistful of hair, to pull that tongue further into me, only to remember that my wrists were bound to the wrought-iron bedposts above my head.

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When she contacted me via here, she explained that she'd read my story and it had turned her on. My shameful story. The one about my desire to act as human toilet paper. In the exchange of emails that followed, Sarah told me she thought she wasn't anything special, just an ordinary lady of a certain age, a divorcee who worked in the City and right this minute was single and fancy free.

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Feeling very nervous as she stood backstage with the others, Diana Watson had so many butterflies in her stomach by then that she was deathly afraid that she might throw up ay any moment. Uncomfortably squeezed into her very best dress - one that she had not worn for many years, since before a sedentary life added more than a few extra pounds to her once slender figure - Diana had to work hard to resist the impulse to run a restive hand through the hair she'd had professionally coiffed at the beauty parlor earlier that day.

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