Your erotic stories

The dance music was loud. The club was packed with sweaty bodies, and Karen was thirsty. She moved past gyrating bodies and through entangled couples. The dance club charged a lot for drinks, so she ordered a bottle of water and retreated to a corner. She sipped it and stared out at the dance floor. Karen was a twenty three year old senior in college, finishing up a Masters in communication.

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I just about keeled over when I walked into the pool on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and saw who this year's lifeguards were. I knew them of course, heck, just last year I'd graduated high school with them and I'd thought I'd never see them again since we'd all headed off in different directions for college! Well, they headed off. I went to the local state University so that I could save some money by living with my parents.

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It was 1959 and I was 19 years old. I had left London and had accepted a position as a junior clerk in a large company in the north of England. I found a small, cheap bed-and-breakfast hotel run by Mrs. Johnson, a friendly motherly type, who made me feel instantly at home. I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks until I found a flat to rent. It was Friday and my first night in the city.

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Brian raised one eyelid and stared at the alarm clock, 5:32 AM. It was Friday, the beginning of his three day weekend. The dog had thumped into his bedroom door, demanding to be taken out for relief. Brian propped up on one arm and cleared the sleep from his eyes. His wife Allison was still beside him, lying on her back, one breast exposed. He took the time to lightly blow on the exposed nipple, then licked it softly, which brought it to a point. She began to stir but the dog thumped again.

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"What the hell do you mean eight hundred bucks?" I practically yelled into the phone. "It's a fucking water pump!" My mechanic gave me some song and dance about having to pull a load of shit off the engine to get to the broken part. "Fuck, dude," I said. "Where the hell am I getting that kind of money?" He gave me some more song and dance.

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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school.

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"Wahay!" A course Geordie voice shouted as I heard someone wolf-whistle me, "Careful you don't show us your stocking tops; sweetheart!" I had arrived home half an hour earlier after finishing a night shift at the hospital and as I was hanging some washing on the spinner in the garden my nurses' uniform had risen to mid thigh. I turned to scowl at the builders who were working on the new conservatory.

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My pet had been very bad today. She was taking the day off from her internet professions and I was going into work. She begged and pleaded with me to stay home with her but I said I couldn't, and went to work. I hadn't been at my desk for five minutes before my phone went off. I checked it, and it was a picture that my pet, Rebekah, sent me seemingly in retaliation for not staying home.

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It is Saturday, mid-morning. My cellphone rings, I pick it up and see that it is my answering service. I take the call. "Yes, speaking...What are the symptoms?"...looking for a pen and paper. "What is her number?...OK. Thanks." I jot down the number. "Stephanie! What have I gotten myself into now?" I say to myself.

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The two travellers struggled to get through the swinging glass door entrance to the hotel. Ingrid, the maitre d', hissed for the young porter who was usually to be found lounging at the back of reception. But he was nowhere in sight and now the men and their bulky luggage were through the entrance and walking grim-faced towards the front desk. In an attempt to deflect any initial dissatisfaction, Ingrid put on her friendliest smile and, even though it was almost the end of a very long shift, greeted them with energetic efficiency.

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