Your erotic stories

"Fi! Hold the door!" A screech cuts through the rush hour bustle, and I wince in recognition. Clutching my bag closer, I sink into my seat and stare at the Metro doors, willing them to close. "Fi!" I duck my head. I know she knows I can hear her, but I don't care. I've never made a secret of hating her.

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This is just a short little story. It has been a long time since I posted on here so I thought I'd get back into it with something light. Not sure about doing any more in this series, maybe if this is received well enough. I know there is definitely story for more and I even rewrote the ending to be more open. If you like this well enough, let me know and I'll do more. However, I do have a few others projects I'm working on, some new stuff and some other chapters for what I already have written. Hope you enjoy! It's fairly short, quick, and to the point!

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There were five people jammed into Tori's little red Honda and everyone was drunk except for her. That was usual for a Friday night, but they weren't usually in this part of town. If it weren't for Jo volunteering them to pick Shauna up after work, she wouldn't be here at all under any circumstances.

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It was Concha's first year as a teacher. Fresh out of college, the only job she could get was working at the adult center and as a substitute teacher. It was hard to make ends meet on a part time salary. She was placed on a waiting list and was told she would get a call when a position became available. Concha ran into one of her old high friends. Dulce was working at a gentlemen's club a few cities down. She told Concha it was ideal because she could work and nobody in town would know.

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Marie and I were serving drinks at a post-wedding-rehearsal-dinner party our boss' restaurant had catered. It was a fun group, the wedding guests about a hundred-twenty strong and the crowd sticking around for the after-dinner party somewhere in the sixty or seventy range. If there's such a thing as a good place to get hurt or sick, this was it.

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Nervously, I looked in the hotel room mirror and smiled as I applied the finishing touches to my makeup. I couldn’t believe Dan and I were meeting for a second time – this time for our “48 hours of sexual bliss” as we had teasingly called it. Though separated by miles, we had become quite good friends, sharing and discussing many fantasies. Our first meeting had been so wonderfully, sexually charged. I could only hope that this second meeting would be as wonderful, if not better.

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When you love music and like talking about it, radio is the way to go. But as a bill-paying career, it leaves a lot to be desired. I'm not complaining...well, maybe a little. I'm a single mother driving a 17-year-old car and one income from my noon to 3pm gig at a local rock station wasn't cutting it. The drive-time guys make the big money, especially if their ratings are solid, and I would go play with them on the air sometimes just to feed off their fame and get a couple of weekend remotes to pull in a few extra bucks.

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I went to a strip club for the first time not long after I started college. I'd turned 18 over the summer, and there was a club near our campus that didn't serve booze, meaning for one that I could get in, and for two that the girls could dance completely nude. I was curious about it the first time I heard, and when the student loan checks came in, I suggested to my roommate, Tom, that we take a little cash and go check it out. He was as eager as I was, and so one Friday afternoon we went.

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Adam had just turned eighteen. His aunt Kelly had sent him a plane ticket to come spend two weeks in Las Vegas with her and her daughter's Trina was twenty-one and Lisa was twenty-seven. He arrived at the airport at nine fifteen on a Wednesday evening. His cousins were waiting on him, holding a big sign that said Adam's Family. They always liked to joke around and he laughed at their sign.

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The French door clicked open as she slid out to the balcony to steal away from the party. The sheer white curtains whipped in the brisk wind as she crept away from the stodgy crowd. The wives had stared at her like they always do. Their eyes were drawn to the art of Olivia tattoo spread seductively in ink across her lower back. The blue velvet dress Johnny had bought dipped too low to hide it. Sweet Johnny had always loved her tattoo.

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