Your erotic stories

I'm waiting patiently by the hostess station of the restaurant. I've told the hostess that I'm waiting for someone and not ready to be seated. It's early and the restaurant isn't crowded, so I don't think we'll have trouble being seated when You arrive.

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“Come closer.” She stood by the doorway, teetering slightly on the outsoles of her heels. Peering towards the corner, she made out the silhouette sitting casually in the leather sofa in the corner. Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the light, but the shaggy mane and the scent of clean musk were enough to tell her he had managed, yet again, to enter her home. She knew it was pointless to ask how. More important was why.

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Jamie sat in his kitchen, studying the woman across from him. He squinted through the smoke from his pipe and, for a moment, saw her as she had been when they met. He smiled at the memory. She had been 19, he 35. Neither had believed the other could be interested in themselves. Yet they were. Then she had been young, pretty and immature.

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Clear, warm waters and azure skies did nothing for her. There had been a holiday, once, where she had sat on one of those white sanded beaches whilst grinning Caribbean boys brought her drinks under a "made in china" palm parasol. The heat, even in the shade, was sapping.

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Standing in the doorway, she watched the sweat drip down the gardener's chest. The tall, muscular man, had stopped beside the mower and wiped his brow off with a well-tanned arm. She waited restlessly for him to notice that she was standing at the door in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of tiny white underwear. She had been trying to get the man's attention all day.

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The mittens didn't make the crawl very easy, but she followed as best she could. The tile floor hurt her knees a bit, but she focused her mind on the deed her master laid before her. They entered a room at the end of the hall, and it was rather large. A cold silver steel exam table laid in the middle, and along two conjoining at the corner walls were lined with cabinets. A counter top lined underneath the cabinets.

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It all began with a conversation. Five friends sat at a table in the food court at the local mall: Jerry, Amanda, Evie, Zane and Linda. They had all been friends since high school, and though it was almost eight years and several different experiences later, getting together once a month to go see movies was still something they made sure to schedule.

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Her head bends reverently forward to rest on his knee. His hand is eager to stroke the light brown locks that fall covering her reflective green eyes. Her eyes are his to see or to cover at his desire. For a moment he wishes to see her sparkling eyes and the gentle smile that so gently curves her soft lips, but not for long.

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It was with some frequency that James Hartman returned to his old stomping grounds in the ATL for job related responsibilities. Atlanta held many memories for James, good times, pleasant reflections and melancholy longings. It was a trip he always took with much anticipation because it presented itself with the hope of exploring his deepest, darkest, most perverted desires. James had a dark side that hadn't had an outlet for quite some time.

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I remember when I took you off on a romantic get-away. At our one year anniversary I stole you away to a vacation cabin nestled away in a secluded valley of Hocking Hills. We spent time hiking through the trails hand in hand, observing the beautiful scenery, and listening to the sounds of nature. The sounds of birds singing in the trees, bee's buzzing, and the wind sifting through the leaves all added to the delicious adventure.

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