Your erotic stories

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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Skylar McGill was an attractive girl. She was just 19 years old, around 5 foot 5 and just the right balance between slim and curvy, with tanned skin, grey-green eyes and dark brown hair to her shoulders, she was nothing special but certainly not ugly. However, that morning, after crying all night, she definitely did not look her best. Looking in the mirror, she sighed, wondering when it would be over. Her friend Magdalena was playing mind games with her again.

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Natalie checked her make-up in the rear-view mirror of her little car. Today had been a particularly challenging day of teaching art at the local high school. Many of her students came from low-income families and were forced to steal or worse out of necessity, and were constantly in and out of juvenile detention.

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