Your erotic stories

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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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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He stretches himself out, the sheets rustling as he flexes his muscles and lets out a long yawn. Nick smiles at the smooth, warm form resting at his side. Glancing over, he sees her red hair spilling across her face and pillow, her creamy white skin exposed to the air. She moans and moves closer to him, one arm draped across his chest while one leg slides up along his own.

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Two middle age men walk down a rain-soaked street on a dark night, and a small neon sign directs them down an alleyway. JIGGLE HUT, it reads. A bright red door at the end of the alleyway is well worn and has a big 'JH' painted on it in yellow. Marcus, the taller of the two, pushes it open and they walk in. Dark stale air glows with dim purple light, and bass heavy music throbs. A fat man on a stool that's way too small for him looks them over.

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Before I get into the story, let me give you a little bit of background information... During my first year of college at UNC I played it pretty much by the rules of polite society. I abstained from personal misconduct, mainly sexual promiscuity, and concentrated on my studies. I also worked on meeting people since I had always been a little shy in high school. I figured since I was now in a new environment where nobody knew me and I could get a fresh start.

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The stripper twisted her butt right Jake's lap, as if she were waxing his crotch with her cheeks. His eyes were fixed on the tight rotation, while the rest of us watched her bare breasts swaying in time. Twenty minutes ago she had been dressed like a secretary, but now the G-string stretched between her cheeks (and her tip garter and high heels, of course) was all that remained, and pretty soon that would be gone, too.

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I'd been stripping for about 6 months. It wasn't my first choice, but I'd been unable to find a job since graduating with an engineering degree - it seems people just couldn't handle the idea of a pretty, female engineer. It was an ok gig, and it more than paid the bills. I certainly didn't get off on it like I hear about with some girls - it was just a job.

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