Your erotic stories

I sat at the casino bar all morning and into the afternoon. Even though I looked old enough to drink, I was sure the only reason I wasn't asked to leave was because I ordered only soda, and I probably looked like I'd been through enough grief. I didn't talk to anyone, and they quickly understood it did no good to try. My eyes were fixed on the floor behind the bar, but I saw nothing. I didn't even notice the bartender shift changes until I snapped out of it around 4pm. I had been sitting in the same spot all day.

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When I was at college my younger sister grew through her teens, and those friends of hers I remembered from childhood as daft little girls turned into some attractive young women. On my times back home between terms I'd find some hot young chick or other in my parents' kitchen keen to see their friend's brother again and shoot the breeze with an 'older man'. Amongst, Amy - my sister's - gaggle of friends there had always been 'the twins'. Mainly Caroline, one of an 'identical' twosome.

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I was definitely less than thrilled about spending the night on Kate's lumpy couch, but I also understood that there really wasn't any other option. I certainly would have preferred sharing Kate's full-size bed with her, but I couldn't see that actually happening. It wasn't like there was a whole lot of room in her small Manhattan apartment and since April was staying with her for the summer, she had dibs on the small guest bed.

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"You don't think I'm a slut now, do you?" She asked, looking up from the picture. With her bright green hair and the sour-apple sucker in her mouth, she looked like a character from a bad anime. I couldn't help but wonder why she had shown me the pictures. Was there....? She nudged me with her hip and brought me out of my musing. "Well, do you?" She asked. "No....no honey. I don't think you are a slut." I said, shocking myself at how smooth and even my voice was.

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There's something about reading other people's stories, I keep thinking is that real, did they really do that? It's so much hotter to read something that really happened. So I thought why not tell one of my own true stories. It happened last Christmas, after a friend's wedding. It was late and the other guests were mostly gone. We'd stayed up drinking with some Army officers, in no hurry to get back to our room in the hotel.

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11:45 pm, the Sheraton, Tacoma, Washington. Rosette Cole was descending in the elevator from her 26th floor hotel room, contemplating her next move. As something that always on her mind, she wanted sex in that place and knew that there would be no problem getting it. But she wasn't in the mood for the ordinary that night; she needed something different. It's not as though she really had ordinary sex at all though; traveling from city to city around the world on the Black Card daddy gave her having one night stands was never ordinary and no two stories alike.

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She comes over after rehearsal for a drink or two around the kitchen island. You've been talking with her for the last couple of months about our sex life- it's been no secret that there was something powerfully sexual that brought us together, but most of our colleagues, although curious, just won't ask about it. But the two of you have been friends for a very long time and she's always been both inquisitive and supportive.

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I hung up the phone and waited to be buzzed in, maneuvering the box in my left arm so I could see my watch. Shit. Five after eight. Almost on time. Well, if I was going to be late, this was the night to do it. The normally frigid March weather was glorious. Most of the snow had melted and I'd opted for sandals instead of my usual choice of sneakers. How'd I gotten stuck babysitting on a Saturday night like this again?

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As luck would have it, I finally met a girl I liked. And she seemed to like me. Our third date and she was letting me cook her dinner. At my apartment. Just me and her. I could not blow this. I let her into my building, and we began to walk up to the third floor. I was a gentleman and let her in first and we began to climb the stairs. Of course there are advantages to being a gentleman. Like walking up a flight or two of stairs with a pretty girl in front of you and being able to gaze at her ass.

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I sat in my chair in the living room watching the news. The meteorologist was forecasting the weather for the next few days, nothing but a few clouds, although the temperatures would be a bit cold for this time of year. Next to the television sat the last two bags of gear waiting to be packed in the truck. It was going to be a great weekend, three days at the cabin with no interruptions. I could hear Wendy, my wife in the kitchen, talking on the phone to her best friend, Brenda. The two of them had known each other since they were children, and acted like sisters.

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