Your erotic stories

“Holy Fuck” shouted Chuck, as the information flashed up on his computer screen. He could not believe it at first, but it was true, he had found her, after two weeks of searching. There it was in black and white. Heather Harlow, ex glamour model, now living in Monterey CA. There was even a phone number, and her e-mail too. The question was, what was he to do now, he needed to contact her, but through what medium? A phone call was out of the question, too personal, too soon.

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It wasn't easy being a young professor at a southern university in the US. When I say young, I mean young. I was always an overachiever, and got my Ph.D at 22 and began teaching immediately. This meant that I was barely older than my students at best. This had the potential for becoming an outright, unmitigated disaster, and everyone knew it. The Director of my program never came out and said anything to me directly, but it was clear he was keeping a close eye on me.

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As you can tell from previous stories, Katie and I have a very active sex life. We are open to a lot of different options and very rarely turn down an opportunity to try something new. Of course, with her being best friends with Becca, they share their deepest wants and desires with each other. That usually ends up with something new happening and everybody gets excited to give it a go.

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Bill went to the neighborhood Halloween party against his better judgment. Since his divorce six months ago, most of "their" friends sided with his EX. The only person he managed to stay friends with is Tom, the guy who every year gives the big neighborhood parties. Tom and Leann usually threw three or four parties a year. But, Halloween was always the biggest and the loosest. Year after year a few new affairs sprang up and usually quickly died off and an occasional divorce occurred.

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As I sit at my desk this morning, I can hardly believe what's happened over the past 24 hours. And it's not as if my life isn't often filled with excitement. But even by those standards, the last day has been extraordinary.

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When I arrived at the tavern, I was trying not to look around too much. In my visualization it was them that approached me, strangers with familiar faces. I tried to appear confident and comfortable, but in all honesty I was neither of those. Sitting casually on a red faux leather stool at the bar, I ordered a Vodka and Soda and drew a deep breath. My lungs registered the dank sticky alcoholic air that I inhaled, the kind of air you can only breathe in a place like this.

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My husband was out of town. Again. Sometimes I felt like a single Mom, raising my two kids without a husband present. He made great money, but sometimes I felt like he travelled so much that I didn't have a partner. In addition, when he was home he seemed distracted, too busy catching up on his own life to pay much attention to me. Rather than his absence making our sex life or our hearts grow fonder, it seemed to be doing the opposite.

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The first day at work was a little scary after not working for so many years. I was going to work for the same judge that granted my divorce from Wadsworth James the III. I got the house and a car and a small alimony check every month. Then dear Wadsworth goes and tried to drive under an eighteen wheeler so then the monthly checks stopped. Hence I am going back to work. But the house is paid for and the car should run for several years as it in nearly new.

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I've always adored old quilts airing on clotheslines in the spring of the year and my great Aunt Selina was a proponent of airing her quilts by spreading them on the grass to freshen them up. That is why memories of her came to me just now. Quilts have a special scent when they are placed in the sunshine...and James had placed several in the yard for this afternoon. Not so much for my visual delight, but for my sensual delight...one draped with care over two bales of straw and two upon the green grass on either side of the bales.

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I work in the City, and take the Underground home each evening to the suburbs. I have a nice stroll—just a couple of blocks—down pleasant, tree-lined streets with older, simple semi-detached houses. For a long time, one of the houses I passed was unoccupied. I had often fantasised, while walking by each evening, that someday I would take a love (strictly a fantasy figure) to the empty house for an evening of pleasure.

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