Your erotic stories

My name is Angeline Currie. You won't find that name in any history of Hollywood. In all the movies in which I starred from the '40s to the '60s, and the character roles I played in movies and on TV in the twilight of my career, I was billed quite differently. Not even my agent knew my real name but, trust me, if you heard my professional name you'd certainly know it.

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I love summer. Hot days are best. Hot, bright days that bring out beautiful women with long, smooth legs and deep cleavages. Bare shoulders and thin straps support light summer dresses and strappy sandals caress tanned ankles. Thin tops that cling to perky breasts and give a hint of nipple. Denim cut-offs that give tantalizing glimpses of the crease between thigh and buttock. Unexpected breezes that whips up the unsuspecting summery skirt, giving flashes of pale buttock and pink G-string.

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As I sat in the window seat watching the rain and the wind causing waves on the normally still lake, I could only help wonder at how the weather reflected my mood. Yesterday had been gloriously sunny and calm and everything had been good in my life. Now my heart was broken and my emotions were threatening to drown me in a torrential downpour from which I could find no shelter.

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I have always loved women. There is just something delightful about femininity and female-ness that has always resonated with me. Even as a child, I found it easier to make friends with girls than with boys. Oh, sure, I played on the sports teams, and engaged in the same kind of rough-and-tumble as the other boys, but females seemed to draw something deeper out of me, something thoughtful, and deeper than just scoring touchdowns, or hitting home runs.

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Martine looks down the row of women, each one standing perfectly still with their hands behind their head and their elbows just touching the girl next to them on either side. She sees blondes, brunettes, redheads, women of every race and color, a celebration of female beauty. They are all naked, oiled lightly, and each one has the exact same expression of perfect joy on their face.

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"You cannot put it off any longer, my friend. If you do not choose for Asu soon, the priests will take him. The choice will no longer be yours—or Asu's. He is of age for starting the life chosen for him. He cannot do other than meet his destiny."

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I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. I wrapped the towel around me and dripped to the front door. Guys are much more able to do that than girls are. We can drip, and show up at the door in only a towel from the waist down, and no one thinks it's a come-on. If a girl does it, she's just asking for it.

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Heather nuzzled into Conner's hand as he placed it on her cheek, and she looked up into the cornflower-blue eyes of the lithe-figured blond college junior as she cupped his balls with one hand and sucked on the bulb of his cock with her mouth. She was sitting on the foot of the bed in her university dorm room, just in her panties. Conner, pantless and briefless and his sport shirt open to expose his trim, but well-muscled torso, was standing between her knees and telling her what he wanted her to do next in the blow job she was giving him.

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Mom had asked if Marianne was ready for my cock. Mari's eyes burned with excitement, but flickered with a bit of trepidation. Mom picked up on this subtle look. "May I ask you something, sweetheart? When is the last time you were with a man? Marianne admitted that aside from being raped at 13 she was in all other ways, a virgin!!! The idea that I was to be her first, perhaps not technically, but certainly emotionally, her first lover was a bit daunting.

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"What about those two? They look positively scrumptious," Dani whispered to me as we took in the warm Caribbean sunrays, lounging on the beach of our resort in our cabana chairs. Those 'two' were a couple of college-aged guys with ripped abs, bulging speedos and most certainly, cougar-worthy.

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