Your erotic stories

Warm air. Wonderful stuff. We stepped of the aeroplane and felt it wash around us as we unwrapped ourselves from our winter coats. A bit too much white skin on show, but we would change that over the next couple of weeks, lying out in the sun, swimming, eating, drinking, living the tropical idyll.

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It's late - we've had a few games of bowling and we're heading back to the car. The bowling alley has just closed, and the car park is empty except for my little Micra and this one, clapped-out car. There's a woman, slim, with long slender legs and short blonde hair, stood with the bonnet up, peering at the engine.

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In case you haven't read any of my other stories, my name is Alicia and I'm eighteen years old. My best friend since fourth grade and lover since December is Shelly. She's five months older than I and a very beautiful girl, if I may say so at the risk of being a little bit prejudiced. We are bisexual, not lesbians, because we have boyfriends, too.

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It was Thursday night, ladies' night at the local Sheraton's hotel bar. This was always the happening place in town because the DJ was the best and everyone in the whole city would go there to hang out, drink, and dance. Well, I called several friends and tried to get them to go out with me, but no one wanted to go for various reasons.

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I always thought that the trouble with my friend Lacey was that she was so gullible. As much as I hate stereotypes Lacey is quite simply one stupid dumb blonde. Imagine this, a tall six foot statuesque girl, with curves in ALL the right places, firm but bouncy tits, a rounded ass that sways not wobbles when she walks, and that wonderful not quite honest tint to her skin.

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It truly was a day to remember. I stepped out onto my pool deck that Saturday afternoon, aiming to bring the water up to the proper level and check the chemical balance. Three neighborhood couples would be at our home that evening to share my locally-famous smoked ribs. I wanted the pool to be crystal clear in case we decided to swim too.

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Winter was here and it was cold and nasty in Chicago. The kind of weather that just makes you want to pretend you're a bear and hibernate. Crawl into the bed under the covers and sleep, with a sign over the bed that says, "Don't wake till Spring". Neither Laura or Tia wanted to brave the weather for another day at work but neither could afford to lose the job or a days pay so they trudged off , through the ice and snow and worst of all Chicago's famous wind.

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line.

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I wake up. My room is darker than I've ever seen it, pitch black with no moonlight slipping in through the drapes. I start to move my hand to search for the candle on the bedside table and find that I can't – my arm doesn't respond. The sensation brings me wide awake and I try moving my legs, panic setting in when I can't shift them and realize I have lost the power of movement. I want to open my mouth to cry out for help but a tightly stretched fabric muffles my lips.

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I've waited months to share this story with someone. I still can't believe it happened. You would think the details would have faded over time, but fortunately the events I want to share with you are vividly imprinted in my memory. I have never felt anything like this before in my life, a warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling deep inside of me and bubbles with happiness.

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