Your erotic stories

Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.

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I was cursed. Not by the evil witch of the mountains or some wizard living in a cave somewhere. I was cursed by my own parents. I am their first child. They named me after my mother's favorite cousin. What they either didn't know or didn't care about was that he hated his name.

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After that little Halloween incident with my gynecologist, Dr. Markus DeShade and his band of kinky cohorts, he has been exceptionally nice to me. So has his wife Evelyn, although I think her interest is more on the Sapphic side. Tall, good-looking women tend to become attracted to me, as was the case with my German friend, Eva Reichman (see Cat's Discovery).

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I've always liked massage, especially the sensuous kind. Stroke and caress me and I'm like putty. I had found that the massage part of the activities at massage parlors was lots of fun for me, perhaps more so that the so-called happy ending part. The sexual part always seemed so much like a business transaction. It felt like a contest between seeing how fast the provider could make me finish, and how long I could hold out.

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Karen had spent the first few days following her visit to the massage parlor savoring the memories. No matter what she did, something would cause her to think about Tess and she would be off on another long erotic daydream. It was a good thing she had little on her schedule requiring deep concentration.

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