Your erotic stories

It was a night for reunions. I hadn't seen Stacy in ten years. Running into her at the grocery store had been such a pleasant shock, that I couldn't stop thinking about her the entire time I was getting ready to go out. I had already told my husband, Sam, all about her. In my stories of our times together, I had described her as the closest person to my fantasy woman I had ever met. She still was.

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When Randall came home, Cassie was waiting to take his coat. Dressed in her school uniform, as usual; the skirt so short that you could see the bottom most curve of her ass and her white cotton shirt over a white cotton tank, tucked into her green plaid skirt. Lotus was crossing the floor, with a scotch in her hands. As she moved the ice tinkled against the glass, that was nothing compared to the slight sway of her breasts, he thought as he loosened his tie with a smile.

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None of my stories is set in the current times ... I really am an old fart and I can't take those little magic pills. Therefore, there is no possibility of "new" adventures. Of course, writing about past adventures has some real advantages ... my memories are always better than the real thing. In other words folks, my stories are a mixture of fact and fantasy and written for some not-so-pure enjoyment.

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"Hey, could you show me how to Bate Stamp low on the page like you did it last time?" I shoved the file home, then stood from my bent position. I kicked the cabinet door closed and turned to my co-worker. I was surprised to see she had been looking at my ass. More surprising, she took her time raising her eyes to meet mine, lingering on my chest on the way up.

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I went to a small college in a town about 25 minutes from my parents' town. To save money, I lived with my parents and commuted my junior year. It worked out ok because my girlfriend, Sarah, lived close to my parents' house and went to a local community college, although the half-hour drive every day got to be a chore.

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Miss Sanders settled her class down after coming back from a break so she can start the English class with everyone calm and quiet. It never took more than two loud firm orders from her to get all of her students to hush up and pay attention. They were especially attentive ever since her sex-ed classes a couple months ago and they were all the more eager to please her and do as she says.

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Attending a collage in the south has many benefits not the least of which is frequent road trips to the beach. On this particular trip it was myself and five fraternity brothers looking for a little fun and sun down on the gulf coast. We arrived Thursday afternoon around 2: PM and checked into our hotel. Typical collage guys on a budget, we were jamming the room.

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Cue the music. I'm thinking Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees. I'm strutting down the street, buttons undone on my shirt, gold chains tangled in my chest hair. Yeah, I'm that guy, and it feels good. Family, friends, and co-workers attributed my abundant happiness to the fact that my relationship with Nicole was going well, and that was true as well.

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'Enjoying the view?' 'Hmm?' 'You like what you see over there?' 'Don't know what you're talking about.' I turned on my sofa-bed and smiled sheepishly at Lucy. Best to own up when you know you've been caught out. Plus there's a special dispensation for letting your eyes stray when you're on holiday. I read that in FHM.

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"You're doing laundry tonight?" my roommate Steve asked, staring at me in disbelief. "Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "It's Friday night, dude. You should go out and get pissed with the rest of us. That's what you're supposed to do when you live in a college residence! You go out and get tanked, meet a nice girl, go back to her place, and fuck her."

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