Your erotic stories

The drinks through the evening made him nice and woozy. His head felt light and in this state Sunita looked ever sexier and alluring. As if that was not enough, she was wearing her saree with one of those blouses that was daringly cut. Every time she leaned to serve someone or pick up a glass for refill, her low slung blouse gave enough slack for everyone to look down the front. Not that there was so much on display; her breasts were just short of large and there was not any significant cleavage. Her breasts mostly were contained by her bra.

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Daniel and I had been together almost a year. I had moved to Portland for a teaching job and didn't know anyone, but had hooked up with Daniel in the spring of my first year at the high school. He'd come into my classroom to recruit students for summer jobs maintaining trails in the city parks. He was handsome with his brown eyes and golden hair, and he was smart and funny without being cynical and his professional life was devoted to making a difference in kids' lives. I couldn't help but fall for him.

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"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet. I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.

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I'd heard about the parties at Jeni's. Everyone had. It was a small liberal arts college, and six foot tall plus blonde lesbians were not exactly falling out of the trees. Everyone seemed to know who she was and that she was "that" way, both she and her nearly equally tall and beautiful roommate, Veronique.

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After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door of Michelle's bedroom creaked open just enough for my short brunette girlfriend to stick most of her head out while one small hand wrapped around the door. Her shoulder-length medium-brown hair fell forward as her piercing eyes peered right at me as she mustered up the nerve to step out, her mouth obscured by the door and her hand. The only other things I could see in that moment were her toes as they protruded through the front of deep-blue shoes that I could tell were high heels.

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I had often fantasized about my sister-in-law when I had been married to my first wife. The ex-wife was the youngest of 3 sisters from Finland and her middle sister was a knockout, just oozing sexuality. While Sara was cute as hell and sexually willing, there was an immaturity to her that her sister Ana didn't have at all.

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I gripped the seat with excitement as the driver turned off of Thomas and into the crowded parking lot of the Veterans Memorial Coliseum in downtown Phoenix Arizona. It was a warm August night in 1982, and the spotlights from the arena caught the flinty dust in the air, creating a sparkling light show above the gravel parking lot as the sleek white limousine headed up to the main entrance. I glanced at Andrea, who was sitting beside me grinning madly.

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After we made love, I laid in bed feeling warm and satisfied and pleasantly sleepy, my bare back against his lean, naked body. My head was cradled against his chest, our legs cozily tangled and his arm resting on my side while his hand gently caressed my hip. He reached down and pulled the covers up to our shoulders and adjusted so our bodies were even closer together.

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The day was beautiful, the sun taking shelter behind the randomly passing clouds, a slight breeze whispering through the leaves of the trees, and the onset of summer providing a sweet afternoon for a country picnic. There, on blankets, sat the five close friends. College was out for the summer, this was a day to enjoy.

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A young man in jeans and a TransFlyte golf shirt watched the last piece of luggage get picked up from the baggage claim carousel by a middle-aged businessman. He saw the single remaining girl's exasperated expression, even from a distance. When the carousel stopped, she stared at it as if trying to make it move again.

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