Your erotic stories

"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you." The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks.

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Jill walked in, still in her work clothes. She wore a blue dress shirt and dark gray skirt. Her outfit was conservative but showed off her curves nicely. She spotted me and came over. I noticed a guy at the far end of the bar watching her. I didn't blame him. It was hard to ignore Jill. She's tall and slender attracts a lot of attention with her high heels and assertive aura.

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Behind closed doors, lots of guys enjoy sharing their wives/girlfriends. As a single white American, I'd been fairly lucky in my years living in Japan. I met quite a few Japanese as well as foreign couples who have included me in sexual get-togethers. I'm definitely not a male model, just a regular schmo. But I was always gracious, polite and charming. I made it a rule to always be respectful and reliable.

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I first heard from Rachel last May. She'd read my account of the threesome in a Bristol hotel I'd had and wanted to tell me how much it turned her on. She wrote: "Hi Deepblue32 -- liked A Story a lot. I was turned on pretty much from the first paragraph and I lost count of the number of times I came. God, when both you and Louise were cumming on Abby I don't think I've ever cum so hard.

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For my twenty-first birthday, two of my closest sorority sisters took me out to celebrate. We went to a bar in a somewhat seedy part of town not far from campus, and there, I ordered my first ever "legal" drink. Sally and Jenny and I were getting rather tipsy when the conversation turned a bit raunchy. Jenny asked me if I'd ever been to an adult movie theater.

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I have found such pleasure in being a Dom. I have also discovered a sweet release in being a Sub. Last night, I was both, at different times. Our friend came over, and as soon as he showed up, I was all about being the Sub. I didn't even look in his eyes until he told me to. It was twenty minutes before I even saw what he was wearing. I was clothed in exactly what he told me to wear.

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As soon as Bimbette walked out of the night and through the front door, she knew she had found the place she was looking for. It was a small, dark, run-down taproom, in a questionable part of town, population: nine, including the bartender - all male, mostly black with a few white guys.

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Jan and I had been to this club on a few occasions but were still new to the swinging scene and clubs of this nature, so we were nervous but excited. The night had been billed as a casino night with lots of references to Ian Fleming's Bond and all the trappings associated with 007. So we dressed accordingly; I myself in full tuxedo and Jan in her high heels, full length double side split super-low cut evening dress and only sheer black hold-ups underneath.

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The moon, the mating heat, the high from the hunt – they all contributed to her small moment of insanity. A small moment of insanity that birthed a huge freaking problem. Enaera gingerly ran her fingertips over both of her mating marks. Growing up in the pack with Andrew and his brothers had limited her access to many of the male weres, let alone any other species.

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Chrissy sipped her drink as Alex kissed down past her ear biting and sucking lightly on her neck. She sighed softly and glanced around. Surely their darkened corner of the bar was anonymous enough for this, she thought. She didn't even protest when his hand reached around and brushed her chest, she just breathed in sharply, caught off guard.

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