Your erotic stories

Billie was tiny, less than 5' tall, maybe 4'10" , weighed maybe 100 lbs., and cute as she could be. She was wearing a short-skirt skating outfit like ice skaters wear, but it was a roller-rink. Jay, John and I had been watching her and her boyfriend from High School (they'd enrolled at the Baptist College in town together) whirl around the floor, her like the little acrobat she was, him stumbling along with her. He was almost as clumsy as she was adept.

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Emmy had suggested we spent the evening watching a film, and I was happy to go along with her plan. I'm fairly open-minded in what I watch, and cope readily enough with most things she chooses. I might object if they were sappy romances time and again, but—to be fair to her—they're no more common than any other genre, so it works out ok.

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At first it was a joke, something she brought up in soft, warm words they shared after making love that became a recurring joke between them. She would whisper in his ear as he entered her or the moment after their kiss broke. "I mean it Andres," she'd say is a sultry, practiced voice. "You wait. One day it will be your turn." He would turn and see the look in her eyes. "I'm serious."

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