Your erotic stories

The plane journey to London was uneventful, a bit choppy, but otherwise fine. I decided to make my trip a working holiday and convince my boss to give me the following week off. Two days for the World Travel Market then twelve holiday days. It would be the last year at the Earl's Court venue, which was a shame; I always enjoyed it there. But anyway, to work! I had to somehow try to sell our services as a web design agency.

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“Connoisseur of fine women and fine desserts seeks lady who shares my interest. I take a long time to prepare my desserts and a long time enjoying them. What is your favorite topping?” Larry Randolph kept rereading the ad he’d placed in the personals. He was nervous, and he was watching the clock, which made the second hand seem to run all the slower. He had not expected to get an answer with his first ad – he really didn’t expect to find a person that was so fascinating to talk to over the Internet.

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I have to tell you about my adventure this morning. I awoke this morning and took my usual wake-up shower. Feeling all fresh and frisky, I dressed in a pair of shorts a little shorter than usual, skipped the bra and panties and opted for a lacy T that is lined but still easily visible through. I dressed both the little ones, fed them breakfast, did a quick check of the email found a lusty story that had me moist before I left the house. On the way out the door, I noticed a couple of guys at the end of my drive. They were there working on the road. Our road has been under repair for a couple of days now and I had noticed the guys in and out yesterday and today.

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I've been at this gig for about three years now in a Northeast city. It isn't what I expected to be doing, career-wise, at my age, but I can't gripe about the pay. This is for a private apartment complex (not a hotel, mind you), so it's rightly what Europeans define as being a Concierge (attending to high-end residents' needs). I'm in my mid-twenties, tall and reasonably fit, outfitted in a blazer, gray slacks and dress shoes, and I sport a genuine-enough smile that's kept fresh every day.

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Alexis Morgen stared at the woman in the bathroom mirror. Not bad for nearly 50, she thought. Not bad at all. Virtually no facial wrinkles and creamy skin made her look a good bit younger than she was. Her auburn hair was shoulder-length and turned up in a curl. Her startling green eyes looked slightly sad until she smiled. At this realization she pursed her lips into the thin smile an old flame had once described as her "Mona Lisa" smile. Alexis applied a little more lipstick, brushed her hair, and gave one more approving glance into the mirror.

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The restaurant is dimly lit, just enough light to be romantic and cozy. The waitress I flirted with last week gives me a broad smile as we sit at my regular table. Usually I dine alone, but not tonight. You look fantastic in that shimmering black dress. It shows just enough skin to be enticing, and hugs tight enough to shows all your sexy curves.

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I'm out cycling; I generally cycle most weekends, usually with a friend, but today I'm on my own. I'm going fairly fast along a winding country road; I see a few parked cars on my side of the road ahead of me. I look around to see if it's safe to pull out and avoid the cars. As I look forward again, I see a car door, sweeping open in front of me, thinking - what the hell - where the hell did that come from. I try to swerve around it, but 'nop', I catch the edge of the door and this throws me off my bike, bike one way, me another, rolling a few times until I end up in a small pond.

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