Your erotic stories

Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It seeks to explore lesbian masochism, which I know exists. * It was my husband's fault. Really. Mike was a horny bastard, and something of a voyeur. And that was how he lost me – simple as that. We used to go to a lot of parties, with other young married couples, many of us fancying each other's partners like mad. Nothing unusual in that, I suppose.

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I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate.

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"I think it's wreckage of a ship. From the storm last night. It's not strange to find ship wreckage on the Cefalu beach after a tempest like that." Two scouts, on their regular patrol along the Adrano coastline while the forces of the Prince of Madness sought to invade the island nation, had stopped on the beach, their attention arrested by shattered ship planking and tangles of shredded sailcloth washing up in the surf.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well.

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Dr. Kessa Brammer led him through a creaking metal door into the last storage room in the antiquities department. He stepped past her at her direction, looking around the chamber with slight un-ease. He was perhaps her brightest student, which was part of why she liked him. She pushed her weight against the metal door, which creaked closed, and latched with an echoing click.

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It began in silence. She was the Priestess and she was in charge. Her four young, male acolytes stood around her at the quarters of the circle watching and waiting. She was covered in a long, dark robe whist they were naked. With her eyes closed she began to turn, slowly, staying at the centre of the circle. She raised her arms, the robe flowing out about her. She experienced a slight sense of dizziness even though she was turning very slowly.

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Before starting my tour of duty in Okinawa, I thought my primary talent was playing the piano. I was soon to learn otherwise, though, and my late coming to "the" life gripped me like a disease or an unshakable habit. I had known since not long after puberty that I had an unusual attraction. I had formed friendships quickly from my days in high school—and not just with my school chums but with their parents as well. Everyone wanted to get to know me—to get close to me.

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