Your erotic stories

A cold and rainy Saturday in February. The rain is unusually heavy. Instead of the usual "mizzle" that mists the air with tiny, slow-falling droplets, it's pouring in sheets, pattering against the window. It fills my bedroom with a dull and depressing sound. My mood is equally bleak. I'm snuggled in bed, shivering and miserable. I have the heat maxed but it's taking forever for the room to warm up.

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I never had a problem attracting women, all women. Any shape, size, color, and nationality available. I'm attractive, I'll be honest about it. But that isn't what gets girls into my bed, although I'm sure it helps. My personality is what gets them. I know it's cliche but it's true. I'm confident sometimes to the point of arrogance. I know that about myself. I would by lying if I said I was the nicest person on earth. I'm a bitch, okay, I'm okay with it.

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I hated her almost immediately. She was such a jerk, and she was entirely too cocky. So how had I ended up in her bed, on my back, screaming her name? It's a bit of a story. * I walked into Boden Hall, ready to begin a new semester. I was excited about my Junior year, and couldn't wait for the semester to get underway. I got up to my room, unpacked my things, and my roommate and I left to go to lunch. I would be rooming with my best friend Tasha this year, and things were going to be great. The year was full of promise, and I intended to take full advantage.

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Here I was, in the huge backseat of a restored '57 Chevy Bel-Air with a woman whose name I couldn't remember; her mouth, tasting of whiskey and tobacco, kissing me, her callused, sure, hands slipping off my panties. My wide hips tipping up to let her, my mouth slack and open to her demanding, slippery, tongue; my head tilted, eyes open, staring at the rivulets of rain streaking the fogged side window.

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Dr. Terri Childs has been dating my brother for the past three months, the exact time I have been diligently touring the country with my band. I know it's a strange way to start a story but I think you'll understand better once I take it from the beginning and go from there. My name is Jaime Shepherd and I am a musician.

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"You just don't understand," her boyfriend screamed for the fifth time. "I didn't want to go, but you know the guys. They just don't take no for an answer." "I don't care that you went Jason. I really don't. I care that while there you managed to stick your hand into three different thongs for crying out loud. Have some sort of decency," she retorted. As she said this her blonde hair flipped over her right shoulder on top of her pink blouse.

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"Ms. Steven's office." I stated flatly into the telephone. I was angry. A little over six months after I graduated college with a marketing/business degree and I was answering telephones for my boss, Amanda Steven's. "Ms. Steven's? Mr. Bremmer from Coral Pharmaceutical is holding on line six." I barked into the intercom.

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For those of you who haven't read my mom's' story.... Is that mom's mothers' momes...? Anyway my two moms'.... God and I got an A in English. Anyway, my mother and her lover, who happens to be another woman's, story. It might be a good idea to read it to get some background about my family.

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As I'm driving to her house I can't help but think of her. These days she's all I ever think about... falling into those traps that are her forest green eyes... I can't help but think of the first time we met...

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Prologue It was close to midnight when Sarah Mason awoke in her bedroom from a bad night's sleep. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she sobbed heavily, her breathing erratic and uncontrolled, her facial expressions ridden with angst and pain. A lamp was switched on in the hallway outside and quietly her brother, John Mason standing six feet one, opened the door to her bedroom and made his way inside.

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