Did you enjoy my A to Z Stories? If you want me to continue writing one of those stories, vote for it by liking the post, leaving a positive comment, or voting on this Google Form! If you vote using the Google Form, you can enter into a drawing to win a free copy of the e-book! (More details in my Theme Review.)

This week’s kinky stories were:

1. T is for Tunnel
2. U is for Unlocked
3. V is for Vacation
4. W is for Wish
5. X is for Xerox
6. Y is for Yes
7. Z is for Zoo

We have reached the end of the A to Z Challenge. Woah!

Come back May 8th to read the continuation of the favorite story from Week 1! Each Tuesday following, I’ll have another story for you so keep coming back!

Thanks for reading! Keep in touch. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy Z is for Zoo.

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She went to the zoo on a Sunday afternoon for a stroll. It was a local zoo, and she had a membership, so it didn’t cost her anything. It was beautiful. The animals were well cared for. Some of them weren’t even ‘on display’ because they were actually there for rehabilitation, not so much as exhibits. She loved walking through. It was great exercise, and the scenery was beautiful. She was a young, single woman, and had nowhere else to be, so why not?

When she got to the far end of the zoo, one of the guys who worked there caught her eye. He was feeding some sheep. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied. She was used to seeing him around and didn’t think anything of his friendliness.

“Do you want to come feed the sheep?”

Me? She mouthed to him, pointing at herself, looking around to see if there was anyone else he could be talking to.

“Yeah, you,” he laughed. “Come on.”

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, and she approached the fence.

At the back of her mind, she knew that it was late. The zoo would be closing in about half an hour because the sun was starting to set. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was allowed to be there, but if an employee was with her, she couldn’t see the harm in it.

He stopped feeding the sheep and gestured toward the gate to the area. She met him there, and he opened it for her. “I’m Vito.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

She did, and said, “I’m Simone.”

“Hi,” he said again, and something passed across his face that she couldn’t identify.

“Hi,” she echoed with a giggle.

“Come on,” he said, and he took her over to where the sheep were grazing. He showed her how they were gentle and how to pet them. He helped her feed them the special food he had. Before she knew it, it was twilight, and no zoo patrons were wandering around.

“I—” she said, feeling unsure of herself, looking around.

“What?” he asked, his eyes intent on her.

“I don’t think I should still be here. Isn’t the zoo closed?”

He didn’t take his eyes off of her. “It’s okay; you’re with me.”

She nodded, but she felt unsure.

“Come on, let’s go wash our hands,” he said, and he put one hand on the small of her back to propel her toward a small building nearby that had an office and some bathrooms in it.

“Is this your office?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “though most of it is just storage for the animal feed and supplies for them. Plus the bathrooms.”

“Cool,” she said, trying to smile brightly, but feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

“Go ahead in,” he said, indicating the door to the building. She stepped into the darkness and pushed the bathroom door open. He smiled at her and opened another door that said Men on it. She went into the bathroom and washed her hands, feeling like she was being ridiculous for worrying about Vito. He seemed like a standup guy.

But when she opened the door to the hallway, the feeling returned full force. “Vito?” she called out softly.

“In here,” he called from the third door along the short hallway. She looked in and saw that he was in his office, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry,” and she spun around.

“No!” he called back. “I’m sorry, I just had to change my shirt. You were quicker than I thought,” he said, but as he came around the desk to the doorway, he wasn’t putting his shirt on.

And when she reached the door to the outside, she found that it was locked, and she couldn’t figure out how to get it open. She turned around to ask Vito’s help, and he was standing right behind her.

“Don’t scream,” he said menacingly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Her eyes were wide, and she felt like her whole body was in shock. “Hurt me?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, and he took her hands in his and pulled her away from the locked door. “Trust me?”

She didn’t trust him, not for a moment, but she felt frozen. She let him guide her to the office. She wasn’t sure how she could get out of the situation if she wanted to, but she wasn’t entirely sure she even wanted to. Vito was cute, and despite the fact that he had her locked in a little building with no one else around, she was intrigued by what he was going to do with her. She felt more than a little turned on, even if what he was doing was wrong.

She had been quiet so long, he repeated, “Trust me?”

She nodded, despite herself.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. She expected to feel repulsed, but instead, she just felt more turned on. He was a good kisser. Really good. His tongue probed her mouth as his hand slid under her shirt. She felt a flutter of panic, but mostly she was aroused. He was going to take advantage of her, and she wasn’t going to fight it, at least not too much.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy Y is for Yes.

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Winner! This post won for week 4. Check out the continuation here.

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Why did I say yes? What was I thinking? I should have said no. I should have walked away. I should have…

But it was too late now.

When my boss asked me to work late, I said yes, and here I was, working until midnight.

I worked in a finance office, and I was the low (wo)man on the totem pole. So, when the boss needed someone to oversee a software update that was going to run late, he asked me. And I said yes because I wanted to impress the boss. I was an idiot.

I sighed and spun around in my desk chair. At 25, I was sometimes restless in an office job. But it paid well, and I generally liked the people I was working with. I had never worked this late before. I stopped spinning in the chair and decided to get up and get a cup of coffee from the kitchen. I had never worked this late previously, and the building was so much darker than I thought it would be.

My heels clicked on the tile floor in the hallway. The sound was ominous, and I felt a thrill of fear. I tugged at the hem of my skirt to pull it down and cover more of my legs. Then I pulled the collar of my sweater up around my face. I felt more protected that way. Each section of the hall lights turned on automatically as I walked toward the kitchen.

Besides the light I had left on in my office and the hall light, there were no other lights on in the building. The fear intensified into a knot in my stomach. What if someone else were in the building? What if someone were hiding?

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at myself. I had an overactive imagination sometimes. This was clearly one of those times. If someone else were in the building, the automatic lights would be coming on from the movement. I was just being ridiculous.

I went into the kitchen and made my coffee. I brought it back to my desk and sat down. I delved back into work, focusing for a while in the quiet. The hall light turned off on its own after fifteen minutes of no movement. I kept working.

Twenty minutes later, I saw the hall light turn on. The knot of fear in my stomach burst, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

I stood up from my desk and debated. Should I try to close my door quietly? Should I just hide behind my desk? My light. Oh shit, my light was on. That would be obvious even if I did close my door.

By the time I had processed it all, I had heard footsteps, and I was so scared that I fumbled and knocked over the cup of warm coffee. It spilled all down the front of me.

“Shit!” I said aloud before I could stop myself. Oh shit, indeed.

The footsteps came closer to my office door, and I panicked. I dropped to the floor behind my desk and held my breath.

---

Winner! This post won for week 4. Check out the continuation here.

---

 

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy X is for Xerox.

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I watched as the Xerox machine pulled in papers, printed on them, and spit them out the other side. Another page went through. I was transfixed, not because I thought it was interesting, but because I was trying to process something and the repetitive motion of the paper in the machine was helping me to zone out and focus.

I had been a teacher for over ten years. I was single, still relatively young, and had romantic tastes that sometimes went to the taboo, or at least unconventional. Because of that, I had a hard time pursuing romantic relationships. Every person I met seemed to think that I was a teacher and therefore must be boring. It was hard to put in my online dating profile that I was a kinky woman who wanted to be fucked and maybe even beaten. I certainly couldn’t attach my picture to that description, and how many people even looked at profiles without pictures? (Not many, is the answer, in case you were wondering.)

So when someone had expressed an interest online, and the conversation we had included discussing sexual preferences, I was surprised to find someone who felt the same way I did. The problem was that after texting for weeks, he convinced me to send him a nude photo.

I know, I know that was a terrible idea. Terrible with a capital T. Maybe TERRIBLE with all caps. I get it, bad idea. But I really liked him, and I trusted him. But clearly, I had placed my trust in someone I shouldn’t have because now he was blackmailing me.

The school day was over, the kids were gone, and he was texting me assignments under threat of releasing a nude photo of me to my colleagues. Shit.

I sighed heavily and picked up the papers that were done running on the Xerox machine. I glanced at the clock on the wall and knew my time was almost up. I would either have to face the music and let the guy release the picture, or I would have to acquiesce to his request. I knew what choice I was going to make. I didn’t really have much of one, I felt. I didn’t see any way out other than to do what he asked and hope that I could get out of the situation eventually.

I went into my classroom and shut the door. He wanted me to take my panties off and take a picture of them on the floor of my classroom. I was so nervous. If I got caught, it would be a lot worse than someone spreading the picture around. So much worse. Thankfully I had worn a skirt by chance, and I slipped my pink panties down around my ankles and over my feet so they were on the floor. I took a picture and quickly put them back on.

I sent the picture off and took a few deep breaths. That hadn’t been so bad, in the end, had it? Plus, it was kind of hot. I was really turned on. I noticed when I put my panties back on that I was really wet.

But what would come next?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

My phone buzzed on my desk, and I looked at the text. “Good girl,” it said. “Now take those panties and put them in your mouth. I hope you can get them all the way in your mouth because you have to walk to your car with them in. I want a selfie before, during, and after.”

Shit.

I slipped the panties back off, and sure enough, there was a large wet spot on them.

I wore bikini panties usually, and that’s what I was wearing today. Getting them entirely in my mouth might be difficult, but I thought I could do it. I started shoving them in, and after a few tense moments managed to get my lips around them. I took a selfie with my mouth closed and one with my mouth open. I sent them both.

Then I finished packing up my stuff and headed out. I took the stairwell at the end of the hall that was used less frequently. I watched for security cameras and made sure I had my back to one when I took a selfie. I didn’t expose the panties in my mouth this time. I hoped that it would be enough.

Finally, I made it to my car. I took two more selfies and then started the car and pulled out. I didn’t want to take them out of my mouth in the parking lot. What if someone saw me!?

When I was a few blocks from the school at a stoplight, I got another text. “Take the panties out of your mouth and put them back on. Send a picture. You have five minutes.”

I found a place I could pull over safely and slide them back on. They were wet and felt gross against my skin, but I took a picture and sent it off.

This time, I also said something. “I need to drive home. Please give me twenty minutes.”

I didn’t pull out again until I got a reply. “Fine, but there will be consequences to that. Expect a long assignment when you get home.”

Oh boy.

I didn’t know what to make of that, but I could feel my pussy getting wetter at the thought of all the terrible things he could make me do, and all because I had been stupid enough to send him that nude selfie.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy W is for Wish.

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I was wishing I was anywhere else but here. But this was a situation I couldn’t wish myself out of. This was one I was stuck in. Literally, in fact, because I was tied to a bed.

Okay, “tied” wasn’t really accurate. I had Velcro restraints on my wrists and ankles, and they were clipped to straps that ran under the king-sized bed I was lying on. I was completely naked and staring at the inside of a blindfold.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure how I had ended up here. I remember getting out of my car at the library in the underground garage. And then… I woke up here. That’s all I could remember. I mean, I remembered things like my name (Laney) and what day of the week it was (Saturday). But as for where I was or who I was with, I had no idea.

Part of me knew that I should be more afraid, but I was surprisingly calm. I was silent as a mouse, listening to the ambient sounds, trying to pick up on anything distinctive. I heard nothing out of the ordinary. I didn’t even hear the footsteps of my captor.

I must have drifted off because I felt something on my nipple. I wasn’t sure what it was at first but then the pain bit into me, and I knew a clamp had been put on me. Another one followed on the other nipple, and I gasped in pain that time. I took a few deep breaths to fight through the sting of the clamps, and I was just getting used to them when the chain that connected them was pulled. My back arched and I lifted as far off the bed as I could. I knew I was whimpering, but I couldn’t help it.

“Does that hurt?” he asked in a mocking tone. Who ‘he’ was, I didn’t know, but at least now I knew it was a guy who had me.

I didn’t know if I should actually respond, so I didn’t. I bit my lip instead.

“I said, does that hurt?” he repeated, and he tugged on the clamps.

“Yes!” I gasped.

“Yes, Sir,” he corrected.

“Yes, Sir,” I repeated, and then I moaned in pain.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

I was confident this was a trick question, but I answered it honestly anyway. “Stop pulling on the clamps? Yes, Sir.”

He tugged again and then let them go. I fell back onto the bed gasping.

His hand trailed across my stomach and then lower. He slipped a finger between the folds of my pussy.

“My, my, my,” he said, “you are very wet.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. There was no denying it.

“Does it turn you on to not even know what I look like?”

Again, I wanted to lie, but I knew there was no point. My body was betraying my desire. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then I better not let you see me,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say.

His finger slipped out of me and trailed down my full thigh down to my feet. He tickled me, and I squealed. “Ticklish?” he asked.

“Very much so, Sir,” I said.

He started really tickling my feet then, and I couldn’t help but laugh and squirm on the bed. I couldn’t shake him off, though I tried. I could feel myself getting wetter at the realization of just how helpless I was in this situation.

“Please, Sir, please stop,” I began to beg, but he kept tickling me.

Eventually, he stopped, and I took some deep breaths, trying to work past the pain in my nipples that had been masked by the tickling.

“Do you want those clamps off?” he asked.

I nodded, biting my lip.

He laughed at me. “Too bad.”

He pulled on the chain again, and I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The pain was just overwhelming. He let go of the chain again, and I fell back to the bed.

“Have you ever worn nipple clamps before?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“So you know that the worst part has yet to come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And even though I knew it, and even though I thought he was going to do it then, I screamed even louder when he pulled the clamps off all at once. As the blood rushed back to my poor tortured nipples, the pain was excruciating. Worse than it had been from anything else he had done. I writhed on the bed as much as I could given the restraints holding me down.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and then he brushed his fingers across my aching nipples, and I whimpered. “I love hearing you whimper like that.”

I found myself whimpering more after his comment.

“You are such a good little slut,” he praised, whispering right in my ear.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered back.

And then he was gone. I heard his steps retreating and then a door open in close. Then I heard nothing. And I wondered where he had gone and when he would be back to torture me some more.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy V is for Vacation.

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Vacation! The best week of the year!

Every year, I took two weeks off work to go to the beach. Depending on my finances, I would either go to the East Coast or the West Coast. Unfortunately, I was a beach girl living in the mid-west. Someday I wanted to move to a coast, but it just wasn’t feasible yet. So instead, I would plan vacations there.

This year, it was the East Coast: Maine. I found a nice bed and breakfast that was right across the street from the public beach. It had a pool and balconies. I had booked a beautiful room with a balcony.

On the second night of my vacation, I sat out on my balcony looking out over the ocean with a glass of wine. I glanced over and saw that there was a guy on the next balcony over, with a glass of wine in his hand, too.

“Hello,” he said when he saw me glancing over at him.

“Hi,” I said, shyly.”

“Cheers,” he said raising his glass to me.

“Cheers,” I echoed.

“Are you on vacation?” he asked.

“Yes, you?”

“Yep.”

I smiled back at him but didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t been looking for a conversation, but then again, having a little company might be nice.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Kansas,” I replied.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“A little far away from home, aren’t you?”

I giggled. “Yeah, but I like the ocean.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I live in Pennsylvania, but I just love Maine.”

“It’s beautiful here,” I replied. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh!” he said. “I come here every summer. I could show you around if you want.”

I thought for a moment. Having a friend wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Sure, that would be nice.”

“Great,” he said. And he grinned. “I’ll come knock on your door tomorrow at nine?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “I should probably get to bed anyway.”

@}–}—–

In the morning, he knocked on the door precisely when he said he would.

“Hey,” I said when I opened the door.

“Good morning!” he handed me a coffee in a paper cup. I took it gratefully.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Doesn’t everyone drink coffee in the morning?”

I laughed. “I don’t think everyone does, but I do!” I sipped it and moaned softly. “This is amazing coffee.

“It’s from the hotel lobby.”

“Really? Well, it’s amazing.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re just caffeine deprived. It’s not that great.”

“That absolutely may be!” I agreed.

“Shall we?” he asked.

We walked out into the hallway, and I shut the door behind me. I felt exhilarated to be embarking on the small town to explore.

@}–}—–

He felt exhilarated, too. But his exhilaration came from the fact that he knew he would be getting laid when they got back. Maybe she would agree with him, and they could have sex willingly. But he honestly didn’t care. If she weren’t willing, he would have her anyway.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy T is for Tunnel.

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At the end of the street where I live, there’s a tunnel. It’s a short tunnel, maybe 25 feet in length. But it turns at a sharp enough angle that you can’t see out the other side until you’re in the tunnel. Most of the time, I avoid it. I don’t like that I can’t see what’s coming. It makes me supremely uncomfortable. But the path around the tunnel takes me an extra half mile out of my way. So sometimes, there’s no way around it.

Today is one of those days.

@}–}—–

I take a deep breath as I enter the tunnel. I almost want to hold my breath as I did as a child when we would drive through tunnels, but it will take me too long to get through. I don’t walk that fast. I am listening intently, hoping that I don’t hear any sounds, but I am disappointed. There are footsteps ahead of me, and they sound like they are coming closer. Damn.

The first thing I see as I follow the curve of the tunnel is a pair of shoes. They are nice shoes. Big. You know what they say about men with big feet, I chuckle to myself. Then a pair of khaki pants. Nice pants. Pressed. This guy is pretty dressed up for a walk down the sidewalk. I wonder if he’s coming or going. But then I see his face, and the color drains from mine. The look on his face is dark. Foreboding. I am not sure what to make of it, but I am sure it’s not good.

I stick to my side of the tunnel, hoping to pass without incident. I am not that lucky.

As he approaches, he reaches out and grabs me, his hand curling around my upper arm. I am sure his grip will leave a bruise. He pulls me close to him and swings me around so that my back presses against his front. He performs the motion so smoothly that I know this isn’t the first time he’s done it. His other hand clamps over my mouth, but I wasn’t going to scream anyway. My brain has shut down, and I am too surprised to think. I’m too surprised to remember to inhale so I can cry out.

I am wearing a short skirt, and he releases my arm and pulls the skirt up to my waist. I am wearing bikini panties that connect at my hips with a short string. His strong hands snap the string, and my panties fall to the ground. Instantly, I feel my pussy get wet with desire. I’m surprised at the force of my arousal. He bites into my neck, right where it smooths into the curve of my shoulder, and I realize that he must have opened the fly on his pants because he’s pushing his cock into me. He’s biting me like an animal, holding onto its conquest without hands. One hand is still over my mouth, and the other is now fondling my clit, rubbing it in time with the thrusts of his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

I can’t help it. I can’t help my body’s reaction, and I can feel my orgasm building and building and building, until finally… I cry out, unable to stop myself. My pussy pulses, milking the cum from his cock as he fucks me. As his cock softens and slips from my tender folds, I feel some of his cum slide out with it and run down my leg.

His hands slowly retreat from around my body, but before he moves away from me, he whispers, “Same time next week?”

I answer his question with a nod.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Did you enjoy my A to Z Stories? If you want me to continue writing one of those stories, vote for it by liking the post, leaving a positive comment, or voting on this Google Form! If you vote using the Google Form, you can enter into a drawing to win a free copy of the e-book! (More details in my Theme Review.)

This week’s kinky stories were:

• N is for Nostalgia
• O is for Outcast
• P is for Pride
• Q is for Quitting Time
• R is for Road Trip
• S is for Sleepover

Next week, be on the lookout for a week of non-consent stories!

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy S is for Sleepover.

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Stephanie and Sabrina had been best friends since as long as either of them could remember. They were inseparable. They even shared birthdays and had turned 18 at the beginning of their senior year. Every weekend they had a sleepover, switching houses each time. Teachers routinely mixed them up in school, even though they looked nothing alike. Steph was 5’9” with blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Sab was 5’3” with black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin. But they somehow managed to always sit near each other in class.

They hoped that college would be no different. They had both applied to Boston College and were anxiously awaiting acceptance letters. One day in April, Steph came home and picked the mail up out of the mailbox. She was usually the first one home and picked up the mail. But this time, there was something from Boston College. She trembled with excitement and picked up her cell phone before she was even in the house with the mail.

“Hi Steph,” Sab said when she answered.

“Did you check the mail?”

“No.”

“Go check the mail.”

“Why?” Sab asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice, even as Steph knew she was doing what her best friend had asked. “Did you send me something?”

“No, but Boston College sent me something.”

“What!?” The urgency in Sab’s voice and the change in her breathing told Steph that she was running to the mailbox. Sab lived in an apartment complex, and her mailbox was at the main entrance. Steph could hear the thumps of Sab’s feet on the stairs, then the key scraping metal. “I got something,” she said at last.

“Let’s open them together.”

“I’ll be right there,” Sab said, hanging up. She ran back into the apartment to get her keys and scribble a note to her parents. She hopped in the junker car she had scraped up enough to buy when she turned 16 and drove as fast as she could to Steph’s.

Steph lived in a nicer house with large bedrooms and a three car garage. Sab didn’t even knock as she opened the garage door and let herself into the house. Steph was pacing in the kitchen.

“You better stop pacing, or you’ll wear a hole in the floor,” Sab teased.

“How can you joke about this?” Steph asked.

Sab shrugged. She knew that Steph had always wanted to go to Boston College and she was super stressed about getting accepted. They looked at the envelopes. “They look the same,” Sab said.

“Does that mean we both got in?” Steph looked hopeful.

“Or we both didn’t,” Sab teased. Steph glared at her. “Okay, sorry. Let’s do it.” Sab turned her letter over and pulled up the corner so she could rip it open. Steph did the same, and within moments, they were each eagerly reading the missives in front of them.

Sab had a big grin on her face, and she looked up at Steph expecting the same look. But Steph’s face was not a mirror of her own. Instead, Steph’s jaw had dropped open, and she looked like she was rereading the letter. Sab reached out and grabbed it from her best friend’s hand. When Steph realized what Sab had done, she grabbed for Sab’s letter.

What they couldn’t believe was that Sabrina had received an acceptance letter and Stephanie had received a rejection letter.

@}–}—–

“One last sleepover,” Stephanie said four months later.

“It won’t be the last,” Sabrina assured her friend. Sabrina would be leaving for Boston College on Tuesday. Even though it was only an hour from where they lived, it seemed like it would be a world away.

“Everything’s changing,” Stephanie said, and the disappointment and fear were apparent in her tone.

“Well yeah, things will change, but you and I will always be best friends,” Sab said.

Steph took a deep breath. “Whatever, you’re staying at my house Saturday night, right?”

“Absolutely,” Sab said. The girls were holding hands while they waited for the bell to ring signaling the end of the school day. Sab had to run to work as soon as school let out. The girls hugged, and Sab ran off as the bell tolled.

Stephanie sighed. She hated change, and this was just terrible. She hadn’t gotten accepted to the only school she had ever wanted to go to. The local community college had accepted her, and she figured she could try for BU again. But she was still devastated that she and Sab would be separated. It also meant that she had to do something at their last sleepover. Something she should have done a long time ago. She needed to tell Sabrina that she had been in love with her for years.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy R is for Road Trip.

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As a college freshman, I just felt like I didn’t know anyone. That was probably because I didn’t know anyone, though. By the time I was a sophomore, I had a small group of friends I was close to. That suited me just fine. I was friendly, and I said hi to lots of people I took classes with or saw at my job at the school’s gym, but when the chips were down, I knew I had these three other women who would have my back.

So when my friend Krissy texted me and suggested a summer road trip, I was immediately interested. That had been two months ago, and now we were packing the car to depart. There were four of us: tall and busty Krissy, short and perky Holly, average and flat Ardina, and me— short and squishy. If you were wondering, I am describing their chests because it was the one thing that was very different about us. We all had pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. I was the curviest of the four and sometimes felt like I was the most homely. The other girls seemed to have no trouble picking up guys for short-term relationships or long-term ones. I, however, never seemed to have any luck. And the worst part was that I was always, always horny. Always. Can I stress that enough?

Sometimes I would have to change my pants halfway through the day because I would get so aroused, I would soak right through them. It was a problem, honestly, especially when I didn’t have someone to help get me off. I masturbated at least once a day, sometimes twice. That was something I hadn’t thought of when I had planned to go on this trip. At first thought, I figured that I could at least get myself off in the shower every day. That was a good plan, but it didn’t work out exactly as I had thought.

We drove from New Jersey through Pennsylvania, working our way out to Chicago. We stopped for the night around Pittsburgh. In the morning, I got in the shower and tried to get myself off, but the water didn’t stay hot long enough, and two other women had to shower after me. I gave up and hoped that I could get myself off when I got out of the shower. But as soon as the water turned off, Krissy was practically breaking the door down to gain access to the bathroom, and she didn’t care if I was still in there or not. She would have gotten right in the shower in front of me.

I sighed and gave up hope, and got dressed. For traveling, I had chosen to wear stretchy sweatpants and a baggy shirt and sweatshirt. I was relegated to the back for this leg of the journey, so when we got in the car, I settled myself in the back behind the driver’s seat. We had stayed up late talking, and the other girls were still tired. Krissy was driving with Ardina sitting in the front and Holly in the back next to me. I watched Holly out of the corner of my eye. She was getting drowsy. I didn’t talk and stared out the window a while, glancing in her direction every so often. Krissy had some music on, and the conversation in the front of the car dwindled.

After what felt like forever, Holly dozed off. I could hear mild snores coming from her direction. I had my pillow sitting on my lap, and I adjusted my hips so that my sweats would slide down a little bit. I was able to get my fingers under the band of my panties and just managed to reach my clit. I almost moaned out loud as my fingers made contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, but I swallowed the moan at the last moment. My whole body was tensing as my fingers rubbed my clit. I was so afraid that I would get caught. What would my friends say if they found me masturbating in the car? I hadn’t told any of them of my ridiculously high sex drive.

I rubbed quickly at my clit, trying to control my breathing, feeling my pussy soaking through my pants, but not caring. Finally, I felt my pussy clench, and I knew that it was time. I turned my face to the window, closing my eyes tight and biting my lip. The orgasm rolled over me slowly, and my fingers stilled. I waited for a few beats until I thought I could handle it again and moved my fingers a little more. The orgasm continued, and I bit my lip harder. I repeated the process until I couldn’t handle it anymore, my fingers moving and then stopping, the orgasm rolling over me again and again, my pussy completely drenched.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes looking at the three other women in the car. Holly was still sleeping next to me, Krissy was bouncing along with the music, but Ardina was looking in the rearview mirror, and I looked right into her eyes and knew that she had caught me.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy Q is for Quitting time.

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Quitting time! I was so excited for it to be quitting time. I was really looking forward to going home and putting my feet up and binging something on Netflix. My girlfriend was working the overnight shift, which meant I could watch whatever I wanted. The low heels I had chosen to wear to work were killing my feet. I shouldn’t have worn them, but they looked so cute with my black skirt. I longed to get my skirt off, too, but before I could get to that, I had to clock out and drive home. Ugh.

I clocked out and waved to the last server cleaning up in the back of the restaurant. I had finished cleaning up my assigned areas and had been approved to go home. There was the one other server wrapping up the last customer of the night and the manager who was wrapping things up at the bar. Other than that, the restaurant was deserted.

When I got out to the parking lot, something felt off. I had walked out the back door through the kitchen where the employees entered and exited. We weren’t supposed to park near the restaurant to leave spaces for the guests, so this door was the most convenient anyway. The parking lot was long and narrow. Since the restaurant was on the corner, we had a seldom-used side street bordering one side of the lot. Employees parked along the other edge which bordered a short strip of trees. The trees made it feel like being on the border of the woods, except it was only about ten feet deep. On the other side of it was a small convenience store which had closed for the night hours ago.

I couldn’t place my finger on what was bothering me. I just had a little tingle at the back of my neck. I looked around but didn’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. None of the four cars parked in the employee section had any lights on. There was no movement near the cars. The one streetlight that illuminated the parking lot was flickering, which was typical. The light from the restaurant at my back made my shadow look long and thin.

I shrugged and beeped my car remote to unlock the doors. It chirped as I approached and I opened the back door. I looked at my phone one last time before tossing it in my purse. I had started putting my purse in the backseat with my phone in it so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it while I was driving. When I got my first phone, it was big with less than 15 buttons. I could use it without looking. But the new Smartphones were super dangerous to use on the road, but at 29, I was still struggling to break the habit. Keeping my phone out of reach seemed the best plan.

Once my purse was safely placed in the back seat, I stood and shut the back door to my car. That was when I was hit from the side. There was a searing pain in my head and then blackness.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy P is for Pride.

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The word “pride” can be associated with so many different things. Gay pride is the first that comes to my mind, but that’s because I have several family members who are gay. Then there’s a pride of lions. But the first actual definition is “a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements.”

I always felt proud of who I was. Proud of the independent woman I had become. But maybe I had been a bit too prideful. That was never more apparent than the first time I chose to submit to someone. But before you think this is all sorts of shades of a nondescript color, that is nowhere near what my story is like. Want to hear it?

@}–}—–

I was 18 years old and had gotten my acceptance into a prestigious university. Coming from a wealthy family, I wasn’t worried about how I was going to pay for it. I wasn’t concerned with applying for scholarships. My friends wanted to go out and party, and I agreed. We went to my friend’s house while her work-a-holic parents were out and started drinking. I only had one drink, but some of my friends had considerably more. They wanted to go dancing, so we went to the local gay bar. It was generally safer than anywhere else, and they allowed 18-year-olds in on some nights.

We entered, and I am pretty sure the bouncer knew that some of us were not 100% sober, but she didn’t say anything. We paid our admission and went into the club. The DJ was already playing a hot dance number, and we were on the dance floor within seconds. Three songs later, I needed a break. They were all running on adrenaline and the remnants of alcohol, but my alcohol had long since worn off, and my feet hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I found an empty seat at the bar and sat down. Before I even had a chance to order a soda, someone took the bar stool next to mine.

“What can I get you?” a tall, willowy woman asked from beside me.

“Me?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’m going to buy you a drink.”

I wanted to say, “Uh, who are you?” but I didn’t. I couldn’t figure out what this woman’s angle was and until I did, I wasn’t going to be openly rude. Besides, my friends were all still on the dance floor.

“What can I get you?” she repeated.

“A soda,” I replied.

She nodded and signaled the bartender who immediately dropped what he was doing to take her order. She ordered two sodas and handed one to me when it came.

“I’m Samita,” she said.

I extended my hand to her in the polite way I had been taught, “I’m Laura.”

“Cute,” she said under her breath, and she shook my hand.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said.

“I don’t come often,” I said.

“Well, maybe we can change that,” she replied and slipped off the bar stool.

I watched her walk a few steps and debated whether or not I should follow her. Part of me wanted to, but a part of me, my pride probably, told me not to. In the end, I let her walk away. I drained my soda and went to dance with my friends.

But after another song, they wanted a break, and I quickly found myself alone on the dance floor. I sighed inwardly, but the song that had just started was my favorite, and I wasn’t keen on leaving the dance floor just as it began. I kept swaying to the music by myself, and soon I felt hands on my hips. I turned my head back so I could see who it was, and I was unsurprised to see that it was Samita.

I smiled at her, and she kept her hands on my hips and danced with me. Soon she was grinding her hips against mine, and I was grinding back at her. Before I knew it, she had turned me around, and we were practically dry humping on the dance floor. I had never been so turned on in my life, and I had no idea where it had come from.

As the song came to an end, her movements slowed, and she pulled me closer to her so that our whole bodies were touching. Then she kissed me.

It was so unexpected that I opened my mouth to her and gave her complete access to me without meaning to. But something about it felt so right. I felt the music pick up again and bodies around us were moving in time to the music, but the two of us stood there in the middle of it all, our lips locked together. I didn’t even realize what I was doing when my hands slid around her waist.

She broke the kiss and licked down my jawline right to my ear. I could just make out the words she said, “Come home with me.”

I just nodded yes.

Little did I know, that one slight movement of my head would change the course of my life.

---

Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy N is for Nostalgia.

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We all have that one relationship, sometimes more, that we regret. We look back on it and go, “What the hell was I thinking?” For me, it was my college boyfriend. I dated several guys my freshman year, but sophomore year, I ended up with a guy who was super controlling and domineering. We dated right up until the end of my senior year. He didn’t like where I was going with my life (and he was cheating on me), so he dumped me, five minutes before graduation started. It was heartbreaking. My whole family was there to witness it, too. It was a college version of that scene at the beginning of Eurotrip, except my boyfriend was dumping me.

But I had moved on from that. Tomorrow was my 30th birthday, and I was looking forward to starting a new decade. Leave the old behind, bring on the new and all that jazz. I was single, I was living in Boston, and I had good friends to celebrate with. Even though we lived in the city, they wanted me to have a spectacular time, so they had booked us a room in an old hotel right near the center of Boston. It overlooked Boston Common, and it was beautiful, though some said the rooms were haunted. I had stayed at this hotel only once before in my life, on the eve of my 21st birthday, courtesy of my terrible college boyfriend, Richard. He had taken me to a show nearby and booked us a room. Sometimes he had been quite the romantic. But thinking back on that night nine years before, I only had vague recollections of why I had dated him so long. Generous nights like that one were part of it, but I knew there must have been more. The memory was too fuzzy to really identify.

I laid down on the plush queen-sized bed and reminisced. Even though I hadn’t had a guy who I really connected with lately, I was pretty lucky. Of course, what I really missed was a good orgasm delivered by someone other than my Battery Operated Boyfriend. I drifted off to sleep thinking of Richard and college and the wild nights we used to have.

I woke up to a beeping alarm that didn’t sound like my own. It sounded like an alarm from a far-off dream. Why had I set the alarm? I wasn’t supposed to. It was my birthday. I was allowed to sleep in on my birthday. I rolled over to turn off the alarm and encountered a warm body. Panic filled me. A cold chill that went from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I couldn’t see the stranger in my bed. No, not my bed. Where I was I? The hotel. I remembered that. The warm body was entirely wrapped up in the blanket, just like Richard had always done. And then the covers were tossed aside as the figure grumbled and rolled over and it was Richard! Oh my god, it was Richard in the flesh. He looked just the same as he had the last time I had seen him. There were no signs that he had aged at all. I couldn’t believe it. I knew that I looked completely different. My hair was shorter, I had gained weight, and I had crow’s feet around the corners of my eyes. But Richard looked exactly the same. What the hell was he doing here? I hadn’t seen him in years!

He was mumbling something as he woke from sleep, but I couldn’t make it out. I rolled off the bed and got to my feet. I looked down at my body, and I was naked. And thin. I couldn’t make sense of it. I escaped to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door. I took a deep breath and tried to figure out what was going on. Why was Richard here? Had I gotten drunk last night? I hadn’t remembered drinking at all much less drinking enough to have invited Richard back to my room. I couldn’t imagine what was going on. I braced my hands on the edge of the marble counter and looked at my hands. They looked different. I wasn’t wearing any jewelry. I took a steadying breath and looked in the mirror. There were no crow’s feet around my eyes, and my hair was long again. I blinked at my reflection and came to the reluctant realization that I wasn’t 30 anymore; I was reliving my 21st birthday.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.

Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the second week, my theme is romantic stories. Come back for Week 3 (Anything Goes) or Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy M is for Moonlight.

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She looked out onto the lake at sunset. It was beautiful at this time of day, but she knew it would be terrible to go outside. The bugs were the worst right at sunset. Once it was entirely dark, it would be better. She would still get bitten terribly by mosquitos if she didn’t go right into the water, but it was only thirty feet to the dock.

She moved away from the window and went to change into her bathing suit. It had just come in the mail, and she modeled it in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway. It was a two-piece, but it wasn’t revealing. The bottoms were solid blue, and the top was white with blue flowers. The straps were adjustable, just how she liked them to be. She practiced the form she would use for a dive in front of the mirror. When she raised her arms above her head, her stomach was exposed, but not too much.

By the time she was done, the sun had set completely. She went to the sliding glass door and grabbed a towel off the table next to the door. She was poised to run out into the moonlight when she noticed there was someone already in the lake!

@}–}—–

He had loved coming to this secluded lake in Pennsylvania since he was a small child, but as an adult, he hadn’t had much time to visit his aging aunt. She lived alone and had managed to figure things out for herself, but he felt guilty for not spending more time with her. She had no children, and his own mother had passed away when he was barely a man. She had mentored him as he went to college and started his career. But he had finally taken the time to step away from his busy life to spend a weekend with his aunt.

When he had been a boy, his favorite thing to do was go night swimming with his dad. There was nothing like the quiet of the night, swimming in the moonlight. He was eager to get in the water, but his aunt had asked his help with some laundry. By the time he had that situated, she had fallen asleep on the couch. He was glad she had fallen asleep because it would mean solitude in the water. His life needed to take a different turn, desperately. He just couldn’t figure out what he needed to do. Mulling it over in the cool water would help.

He ran out into the night and dove off the end of the dock. He knew to make it a shallow dive so he wouldn’t hurt himself. He surfaced fifteen feet from the dock and looked up at the moon. It was beautiful. He never tracked the phases of the moon, but it looked like it was close to full. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the stars were brilliant. He could see so many more stars here than he could when he was at home in Philadelphia.

@}–}—–

Marie pushed down the feeling of annoyance at having her solitude ruined. It wasn’t like she owned the lake, but no one else was ever out at night. Her elderly neighbor fell asleep in front of the TV on the couch most nights. When they both had their curtains open, they could see right into each other’s living rooms. She didn’t go night swimming every night, but most nights she did. It was the thing that had pushed her to buy this place five years ago when she had come into a sizeable inheritance. She loved that no one there knew her, and she loved that she could be in solitude. She had made some friends, like the lovely woman next door. On her other side, the house was set far back from the lake and she hardly ever saw the owners.

Well, she was already wearing her bathing suit, so she might as well go anyway. She was just glad she hadn’t decided to go skinny dipping. In the typical seclusion, she often forewent the bathing suit and just dove right in.

She dropped the towel on the bench by the water and quietly walked to the end of the dock where she lifted her arms and executed a perfect shallow dive into the water.

@}–}—–

Martin watched as a beautiful, curvy woman exited her home and approached the water. He hadn’t realized the neighbor had been home. He hadn’t seen anyone in the house all day, and there had been no car in the driveway when he had arrived hours earlier. With the way the light glowed behind her, he couldn’t make out any of her features, not even the color of her hair, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the curve of her hips and the way her thick thighs left no gap between them. He was a sucker for a woman with curves.

He was still spellbound when he got a peek at her creamy stomach as she dove into the water.

“What are you doing here?” she called out to him when she surfaced.

“Me?” he asked.

“Who else?” she replied, and he could hear the eye roll in her tone.

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Thanks for checking out my blog. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. If you’re interested in reading more of my work, check out my Choose Your Own Erotic Adventure: Runaway, or my debut BDSM Erotic Novel: Slave.