Your erotic stories

Working away from home on the odd weekend suited Yaz really well; she thought a lot of Cal, Yaz didn't want anything to serious they had spoke about it and Cal was fine with the situation after all she got the odd weekend to do what or who she wanted too. "You have remembered I'm working away this weekend haven't you chick?" Yaz asked Cal before heading out of the door.

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"Ever feel like you're not really you? Like you're just an actor pretending to be somebody?" That's exactly what I am right now - an actress stepping into costume. The same costume I wear every day. Mascara, blush, mini-skirts, tights, sleeveless blouses. I wished I had said that, but I just muttered "uh-huh" as if I were just placating her.

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He had been living in the area for about six months now. The church had decided to let him get settled before approaching him. Mandy had been chosen to approach the man, but not by herself. She was new to recruitment, so she was nervous. The butterflies in her stomach weren't really settled, either, even with Debra's expert knowledge beside her.

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The door opened and I leaped forward, letting out an excited squeal like a teenage girl as I wrapped my arms around the girl who stood there, hugging her tightly. She returned both the hug and the squeal, both of us overjoyed at being together again after three months apart. We pulled apart and I just gazed at her face. Robyn! After all these months, I was finally seeing Robyn again!

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The cleaning girl, Monica, had arrived early on Friday afternoon. "Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens." Monica said. "Please, call me Jennifer." Opening the door to her two thousand square foot home, the tall, statuesque woman smiled at her cleaning girl. The eldest daughter of a neighbor down the street, Monica had grown into an incredibly sexy young woman. Jennifer shut the door behind her and stared dreamily at the young woman, shaking her head slightly.

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For the past several years I've played in a co-ed soccer league, something I said I'd never do in my younger days. But I've discovered over the years that playing sports with girls can be a lot of fun, and recently that fun level hit a new gear. The team had just won an intense match on a hot day and several of us decided to go to a local watering hole to celebrate the win.

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It's been more than a few days since my "Birthday Beach Bang", but I find myself replaying it over and over in my mind. More than once I have awakened perspiring, with my sheets in disarray. I've been reliving that grand adventure in my dreams almost every night. I suppose that my friend Cassie asking me about it almost every day at work might have something to do with it as well.

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The bar was its usual sticky hot, the ceiling fans inadequately trying to breathe fresh air on our warm bodies. The heat lent to more trips to the bar than usual, and tonight I was really feeling the rhythm, loading up on gin and tonics, downing them in my trip from the bar's edge to the middle of the dance floor. It had been weeks since we last spoke. I missed seeing you every night at the bar, shooting the shit, staring at each other, me catching whiffs of your cologne and perspiration.

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Nora. Red-haired, round-bottomed, small-breasted. Thin, lithe and angular. Shaved her pubic hair into patterns, depending on her mood. Tattoo of a treble clef on her ankle. Her relationship before me had been with a woman. After me, she moved in with a couple. Sometimes I led my girlfriends (later, my wife) to the dark side. Nora had a steady table there long before I got to her.

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The "cleanest" sexual relationship I've had was also, in the end, the kinkiest. I lived in a cabin up in Vermont for a short time several years ago. I'd just moved east from California, had a couple bucks in the bank, and was woodshedding some songs for a new album. First night there I'd pulled all the curtains off the windows and stuck the clock radio in the closet, so every morning I woke up to the impossible shimmer of sunlight off the lake and got right to work.

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