Your erotic stories

The first time I ever saw Kevin, I was picking up some materials from the supply store that were needed at a job site. My job required that I occasionally run extra materials to the construction crews if they ran short during the day. I don't mind being outdoors. Some women prefer the office environment, but I like the wide-open spaces, and the freedom to take the occasional truck ride to a job site.

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The funny thing about this whole situation was that I had joked about it with my roommates and my girlfriend before it happened. We had all had a good laugh about it, the situation being so absurd and all. I suppose I should give you some background on us before I get into the story. I live in a small three bedroom in law apartment in San Francisco with two of my closest friends, Patrick and Jay.

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"Let's take this party outside, shall we?" Who was I to argue with Carrie? Stuck in a Marriott for 5 days in the middle of a smallish Virginia town with nothing going on but business meetings was enough to make anyone crave some excitement. Our company always seemed to send us where no one else wanted to go. We never got to go to L.A. or Boston or anywhere there might actually be something to do. We grinned and bore it, making do with what we had until we soared up the corporate ladder to bigger and better assignments.

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When I hung up the phone, I admit I might have slammed down the receiver in frustration. It was Monday and I had been looking forward to an evening spent in my recliner with a couple beers and some Monday Night Football. Instead, I had just been informed that I had been enlisted by my wife to help entertain another in a seemingly endless stream of consultants brought in to figure out how to make my wife's place of employment hum.

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The wind was already howling. The rain pounded so hard and constant on the windows that it sounded like radio static when Connie decided to finally take the neighbors up on their offer. Hunter and Pilar knew Connie's ex had the kids for the weekend and thought she might want to be with someone to ride out the storm. Connie had planned to curl up with her new Blu-Ray of Gone with the Wind, or if the power went out, a good book.

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It begins with a look I suppose, a nod of the head, a turn towards the stairs, towards an unseen room, and in a moment I know I'll be following them to bed, though I'll wait a few minutes while they gather their things, make arrangements, have the final powwow, but I'll follow soon enough, up those stairs and down the hall, I'll knock gently, politely, on the door, can I come in,

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Sharon was beginning to think her friend wasn't going to meet her. She had been sitting at the bar for over an hour, having gotten there more than 30 minutes early. While she was waiting, she had a couple of drinks and had been flirting a little with some of the guys in the bar. Not really flirting so much as striking a pose now and then to make sure they could get a peek of a nipple here and her ass there.

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Sometimes the way things work out can make you smile. Recent events in my life came together to bring my husband and myself some unexpected pleasures. I will start by introducing myself. My name is Addison Jeffries. I am 30 years of age, 5'10' and I've got long, wavy, auburn hair. I'm an attractive woman and slightly vain about my looks, so I work out daily and run and swim. I own a travel agency and can afford to dress in the latest, form-flattering fashions.

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Dijon sat comfortably in one of the two wing backed chairs in front of the desk. She had one knee crossed over the other, her short skirt showing several miles of her famous long legs. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair and she kept tensing and pulling with her arms. She was nervous for some reason and it showed.

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Living in a small town certainly has some great advantages ... and also a few disadvantages. One of those disadvantages is gossip control, or, the lack there of. Having a really tight bond within your circle of close friends is about the only way gossip can be controlled ... well, to some degree, anyway. Our little town, Websterville, had four girls, all seniors at the P. T. (actually Percival Taylor) Webster High School who were absolutely inseparable.

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