Your erotic stories

~Part 1~ "Hold on a second," I said through my phone as I was standing in the parking lot looking for my car keys. Ah, found them! "Alright, what were you saying?" My best friend, Laura, always tends to ramble on a little and if I'm being honest, I occasionally tune some of the less important parts out. "I was seeing what you were doing tonight. Wanna come over? I'm bored."

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I am a 32 year old woman. My name is Tiffany. I have two school-age kids and have been married since I was 18 years old. Even though I have two kids, I have been told many times that I don't look it and get compliments on my 5'4" 38-24-36 body all the time. This is my story.

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I needed a vacation and a tropical island was the best remedy for the mid-winter blues. Any island would do, as long as it had warm, sandy beaches. So I booked a trip to Jamaica and before I knew it, I was on a plane headed south away from the snow and the cold.

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I stand and watch her walk toward me. Her fingers are cool and dry as she places the collar around my neck, nimble as they buckle it in the back, the leather touching my skin all the way around, not tight, only touching. I feel her breath stir my hair. A snort of laughter escapes me and I stifle it quickly. She pauses, her hands still on the buckle, and leans around to look at my face. "Yes?" she inquires, lifting an eyebrow, that same slight half-smile barely curving her perfect dark lipsticked lips.

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I was so nervous that first day when I walked through the door to her office. I almost hadn't showed up. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to wear, and I almost decided it wasn't worth it. "This isn't going to help anything, anyway. I don't know what I'm even going for." I didn't know why I was so nervous.

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At the age of 13, I was having wet dreams of kissing my best friend. I was far too naïve to know that girls could do anything other than kiss, and far too horny to cum from less than a kiss. My best friend Marissa was shaping up to be very beautiful.

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I sat on the wide polished piano bench. Late afternoon sun cast striped shadows as it streamed through half opened blinds; golden motes of dust danced silently in the air. He sat, as he always did, next to me. Years ago, I had begged my mother to learn to play – we had a baby grand at home – and she finally relented.

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"My god this is a slow night! What the hell is everyone doing?" Constable Lydia Knightley was bored to tears, almost literally, and struggling to keep awake in the worst way. 2am on a twelve-hour night shift was the beginning of the nods, and with no action around, there was nothing but will power keeping her awake.

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Crap! My back was killing me so I called up my masseuse. I've been seeing the same massage therapist for a couple of years now. Mindy is great and works around my busy schedule. She went into business after she lost her job in banking and was able to convert one of her spare rooms into her massage spa. Thankfully she's been making enough money to keep her home out of foreclosure.

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When Tiffany woke up the first thing she noticed was the light. Directly overhead was a large circle pierced with holes, and through each opening a thin shaft of sunlight fell diagonally through the clouds. It was very warm and her body was relaxed, rested—she felt good. There was a wonderfully evocative smell in the air. At first she couldn't imagine where she might be and then the memories came flooding back.

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