Your erotic stories

The room is dark around us, except for the few candles I'd lit before joining you in our big bed. A storm is in the distance, the low rumbles of occasional thunder signaling its approach. For now, only a light rain falls outside but the wind is gusty - rushing around the corners of the house with an eerie howl.

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Moira was in the kitchen finishing a bit of straightening out of the pantries. The afternoon summer sun shown through the wide window above the sink in an almost liquid crystalline flow, the colors diffusing off the beveled edges in a harlequin rainbow dance of color. Outside it must have been a good ninety degrees while inside it was a comfortable sixty-eight. As she peered with her electric blue eyes out the window and onto the back lawn she studied her husband of ten years, Liam, shirtless and with broad shoulders, slim waist, a fine chest and muscular arms.

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OUR OWN PASTORAL Scaramouche123 Forbidden love in three acts All characters are of majority at the time the sex takes place. ACT I -- The Stranger I was seven when my mother died of complications from a fall she suffered while we were hiking the Appalachian Trail. I was devastated and thought my world was ending. My father had been killed during the last days of Desert Storm, a few months before I was born, and as I was an only child of a single parent who herself was an orphan; I stood at the abyss at a far too early age.

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She studied the top of his head and selected the exact point of entry. It was to be the motor cortex just behind the frontal lobe. It would affect immediate paralysis of basic movements and the brain stem would cease to stimulate the lung muscles. His life would expire within ninety seconds. He was grunting as he continued his savage thrusts into her and growled, "Do you like being fucked hard you whore."

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I would say that I’m your normal everyday-working housewife. Jeff and I have been married for just over ten years. We got Married young at age 18 right after High School. As of right now we have no children. We are both 28 years old. My measurements are 34C-24-34 at 5’2” and 114lbs. I also have shoulder length blonde hair. We have all the gym equipment a person needs in the basement. So it makes it real easy for me to stay in shape right here at home. Let me see, what more should I tell you about myself?

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"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?" "Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ." "No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope." "Umm. I kinda hoped that—"

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Usually, I-75 from Fort Lauderdale to Naples isn't a very exciting ride. But as my car sped along, passing Florida State Road 19 at around 75 mph, I was pretty fired up. Yeah, I noticed the hundred or so gators sunning themselves on the embankment that lines the interstate; that was different. However, the hormones that were coursing through me this day didn't have anything to do with being excited over cars, or mileage, or gators. The drive itself was a nuisance.

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All I could see were mirrors, yet the voice resounded in the room. I could hear a woman speaking to me. She'd tell me to walk in one direction, yet I wouldn't be able to get past myself, my own image. Offering words of encouragement, she tolerated my inability to overcome my own obstacles.

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I have mentioned in other stories I have written here that I worked for many years as an English professor at a small but expensive New England college. I retired at the age of 65 as a result of the college's policy of mandatory retirement—a stupid idea in an age when most people live longer than they did in the past and most retain their brain capacity. I continued to live in the same town and the same house that my late wife and I had occupied for 30 years.

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It was a feeling more than something I saw. But I paused and took a slow look around. No one was looking at me and the only other customer was a lady about my age pushing a cart through the Produce department. There was that young man with the tool belt sitting on the floor working on one of the display cases. On the back of his jacket it was printed "Jakes Air-condition and Heat." However he seemed to be engrossed in his work.

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