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Virginia's Erotica - Sensual, Sexy, Erotic Stories
Dance for a Drink
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The private rooms were not private enough, and peeking from behind the curtain, Angelica watches with interest as Jamie kneels down between the man’s legs. Pulling down the zip, the girl releases the twitching cock and licks the precum seeping from the tip. The man mutters something as he places his hands behind his head and leans back on the black couch. Jamie flicks her blonde hair out of the way and slides the bulbous rod past her lips and down her throat while gripping the man’s balls. He grasps her hair and thrusts his hips upwards, feverishly fucking her mouth, and Angelica sighs as Jamie slides her hand between her own legs and her eyes close in ecstasy. 'Well whatever turns you on,' Angelica thinks, parting the curtains and walking on stage.

The pole sliding along the inside of her thighs does nothing for her mood, and wrapping her leg around the cold steel makes her shiver as she begins her first routine of the night. It all feels so mundane. The nightly bump and grind of the seedy little club in the back streets of the city, where she earns her crust of bread, has lost its appeal. Sliding her hands further up the pole, she stretches her spine, attempting to limber up for the long hours ahead. Hugging, what seems to be her best friend, at least she feels that way, having caressed its rigidity for longer than she cares to think about, she slips into the dance without thinking. Automatically, following the music, which fills the near empty room, she switches off and the world spins away.

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The Way to a Mans Stomach
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There had never been a time when she did not like cream. Well, ‘like it’ was a slight understatement. She happily poured it on cereal, merrily slathered it over strawberries, bananas, peaches, well any fruit really, whisked it up to put on trifles, made jelly creams, put it in milkshakes, oh and of course drank the odd glass of it when the occasion called for it. Yes, Shyanne loved cream.


The sun shining in the window and a light summer breeze wafting through the drapes had started the day well. Shyanne dreamily wriggled around beneath the bedclothes, stretching and yawning, relishing the thought of the morning ahead. The clock showed nine fifteen and she did not have to go out for another three hours, plenty of time for lazy breakfast and a nice hot bubble bath. After about ten minutes, her body needed caffeine, so scooting out of bed she grabbed Sam’s shirt, which he had left draped over the arm of the old leather chair in the corner. Before slipping it on, she pressed the material to her nose, savouring the slight scent of perspiration and aftershave.

 

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Crossing the Line
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The bubbles tickled Erika’s nose as she sank lower into the tub. Raising her leg, she admired her skill with the razor, and her nether regions fluttered as she slid her hand slowly over the smooth skin from toe to inner thigh. Completely nude of hair, apart from the blonde mop on her head, Erika felt satisfied that tonight would be perfect, and giggled at the wantonness of her thoughts. She painted her long false fingernails red to match her perfectly manicured toes. Once the facemask came off, her skin would be glowing and yes indeed, tonight would be wonderful.

Erika had decided to go blonde this evening, it suited her skin tone, and although her own hair was naturally light, the wig she found had just the right shade that, for some unknown reason, the bottle could not replicate. Adjusting the long flowing hairpiece, she looked in the mirror and smiled, now all she needed was to apply flawless make-up and slip into the slinky new dress that was just sitting in the wardrobe, begging for a first outing.

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Time to Live (Part 1)
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“GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Sandy pushed him out of the door, slammed it, and dissolved sobbing onto the floor. The midday sun streamed onto the faded tan carpet, and the soft tufts were warm on her face as she lay down to pour her heart onto the floor. It certainly seemed like hours later when she woke with a jolt, but when Sandy glanced at the old grandfather clock, only half an hour had passed.

Her body ached as she eased herself upright and her eyes stung as she rubbed them. The sun was setting and a red glow tinged the autumnal treetops. Pinching herself to check she was not dreaming she looked at the time again. The old ornate hands that had shown twelve thirty, were now both pointing down, it was actually six thirty. Surmising her eyes were playing tricks, she shook her head and traipsed off the bathroom.

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