Your erotic stories

Amy came over for a few bottles of wine and a meal the other night. Amy is my best friend of about 12 years, but over the last few we have been known to indulge in a little bit of girl-on-girl action from time to time, especially when drunk. Never anything quite like this night though.

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When you start writing a fiction story, it's fun to think about where to start. But when you're writing a true story, especially one with a lot of threads runnings through it, deciding where to start is really hard. There are so many strands involved in explaining the key event, and people won't understand you if you don't describe them well. They may even judge you.

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After eight years, Paul and I were trying to keep our marriage fresh and romantic and, yes, sexual. So on a Tuesday night in May, I prepared for Paul's return home after work by dressing up in one of the sexy outfits he liked when we fooled around in the bedroom.

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I. BACKGROUND Traci was a tall slender blonde who had been my Mom's roommate in college. They'd stayed in touch and I kinda knew her from her short visits. She was apparently rather wealthy and traveled a lot. I'd never understood exactly what she did but it was somehow related to the classical music and jazz business.

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I was standing in front of my tiny, jumbled closet looking in vain for suitable clothes to take to New Orleans. It had been sooo easy down in the Caribbean because all I needed was a couple pieces of floss to wear over my itty bitty titties and Brazilian waxed coochie. Rich, poor, who knew when you're half naked and dripping wet?

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We were drunk, my best friend Liz and I. No, we were beyond drunk. We were completely shit-faced, to use the vernacular. We sprawled side by side on the sofa in my apartment giggling at nothing. “Do you remember that little pinch faced girl that wanted you so bad our last semester?” Liz asked me. He face was flushed and tears leaked from her eyes as she laughed harder. “The one who looked like she had just sucked a green persimmon?”

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It was a cold, damp, gray Monday in the middle of November and Dan was doing what he usually does, driving from one city to the next in his Midwest sales territory. He had left his home in the Chicago suburbs that morning, made a stop in Rantoul, Illinois, and now was on the back roads traveling to Lafayette, Indiana. He liked traveling the back roads whenever he could, as he felt interstate driving was boring.

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I squirmed in my seat. My stupid dress was riding up again and the hard metal chair was putting my butt to sleep. I glanced around the mall food court for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. No red dress in sight. I still couldn't believe I was here, this had to be the strangest, stupidest, most exciting thing I had ever done in my entire life.

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It had been several weeks since Helen and Paris had eloped from Sparta and Helen escaped the hard hand and salacious ways of her husband Menelaus who had left her to go to a family funeral. Helen was renowned for her exquisite beauty and had been pursued by many suitors; however, her father had arranged a marriage between her and Menelaus because he was wealthy and held high rank in Sparta. He, however, was flirtatious and unfaithful to Helen many, many times, including the time he was away at the funeral.

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The Halloween party was really kicking into overdrive. My friend Kyle was off making out with his girlfriend, and my other friends Nathan and Rob were over by the kegs, trying to finish one off between them, leaving me alone on the dance floor; well, not really alone, it was packed. People were pressed together, trying to dance, as the band played off in the corner.

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