Your erotic stories

Another long overnight shift, Stacey thought. She hated to say the word, lest she jinx herself. Quiet. The ER was dead. Only two patients out of 35 beds. And being Triage Nurse, she hadn't had any activity for 4 hours. Sigh. Even the difficult crossword puzzle was done. Having recently gotten over the flu and a breakup with her ex, she was still a little weak and out of it, only just recently having her appetite return. Only a half hour left of her shift and she could go home. She started to dose off at her desk....

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It was winter, about 9PM, and I was in my living room watching football and eating ice cream when I heard the telltale sound of keys jingling and footsteps in the hall. I leaped to my feet as my heart rate spiked -- my sexy neighbor was home! I ran to my door to shove my eye into the peep hole.

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The flight had been a long one and he was exhausted. The trip had gone well, better than he had hoped, but a trip was never like being at home. He yearned for the feel of his own shower, his own bed, and his own surroundings. The plane began its descent and he felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as the pilot banked first left, then right, and finally leveled out for the final approach. As the wheels touched down, he instinctively reached for his cell phone and turned it on.

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The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn't understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today. The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the mid seventies through the mid eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn't fully realize until I had left the City of the Angels the first time I lived there.

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The café was warm, filled with low chatter and the pungent scent of roasting coffee. A jazz band sent its smooth sound over the vast expanse of crowded tables. Seated by the window, Hyuga bent his head over his sketch book, silently absorbed in the task of laying out the scene around him. His pencil glided across the page; he glanced around frequently to take in the exact detail of a certain mug or a woman's blouse. Incessantly, he flipped the dark bangs out of his eyes.

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Cody moved over to the corner of the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window of the penthouse party room at the top of the high-rise. At one angle we was looking down at the busy E. Colfax Avenue in Denver. The other wall of window overlooked the Denver Zoo. He took a swig of his drink more so that it looked like he was drinking than that he wanted to drink. In truth, he would have liked to get drunk, but this was definitely not the time or place for it.

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This is a continuation of Ella's story. She is a real person (as is Gabrialla) and chapter 2 moves from fact to her fantasies. The story focuses on a dominant interracial lesbian theme. If this is not to your taste, thank you for stopping by but please pass on this and move onto a different story.

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"Truth or dare?" asks Cristina. "Truth," Sammy answers. There'd be plenty of time for wild antics later. The slumber party was just getting started. "Okay..." Cristina looks around the room at her friends mischievously grinning, feigning serious consideration with a finger to her chin. She pauses extra long to build suspense and takes a swig of her wine cooler before posing her brilliant question: "Spit or swallow?"

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Henri smiled. Susan liked the cheerful, guileless concierge-come-garçon de café that was as much a part of the pavillon as the faded, not-quite-peeling paint, the louvered shutters and the balmy salt breeze. She'd come to treasure this quiet little place on the Côte d'Ivoire. Henri's warm grin and genuine welcome greeted her every time.

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The morning mist covered the grass and flowers; it was a beautiful May morning in Georgia. Birds were chirping and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees that lined the long driveway that led to a spacious mansion. It was difficult for Nora to believe that she was only sixty miles out side of Atlanta;

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