Your erotic stories

"Happy Fucking Birthday to me!" I thought to myself. If only I knew at that moment just how happy my fifty-second birthday was truly going to be. But as I took my regular afternoon jog through Meyer Park in the northwest suburbs of Houston, Texas; my mind was a swirling mess of self-pity, loneliness and sexual frustration. My husband and I had been divorced for nearly four years, all three of my children were either grown and gone or away visiting their father for the summer and I hadn't gotten a good piece of ass in what seemed like decades.

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I don't think I will ever forget that weekend I spent at Meg's. It was the beginning of summer, and I had a couple of days to kill in the city before flying back home. Meg had decided to stay and work for the duration of the summer at the museum, and so she'd rented this small one bedroom apartment downtown. It was the coziest little place you ever saw, and we both had a grand old time decorating it;

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I had just completed my sophomore year in college. I grew up in Boston and had spent my entire life in New England. Now I was attending one of those prestigious but rather prim ‘seven sister' colleges of which my mother and my two older sisters were both alumni. And that was after years at a dreary preparatory school my mother, too, insisted I attend.

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She walked through the door, and every head turned. An air of confidence followed her as she strolled through the crowd. She smiled and the room lit up. I was studying a painting until she came up behind me. "Pondering the meaning of this painting?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

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"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Blair MacPherson hammered the BMW's steering wheel with clenched fists, tears of rage and frustration stinging her green eyes. In one moment of anger her career was ruined. She slumped forward against the wheel and began sobbing in earnest. What an awful end to a terrible Friday.

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I'd inherited a house I had never seen, in a land I had never been to, from a relative I had never met. It was fortunate, plus or minus the un was still to be seen. The house stood solitary, proud and ram shackled, near the edge of the sheer, steep cliffs. No it didn't look foreboding; however it didn't look welcoming either. This was to be my new home?

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Roger Calkins turned the red Corvette off the rural highway onto the gravel road leading to his grandparents' house, his wife Anita seated beside him. He was looking forward to spending the Christmas and New Year's holidays with his family, however Anita was not. Oh, everyone was pleasant enough and glad to see her, but she missed her own family in the Czech Republic. She had met Roger at a café in Paris where she was studying Art History at the Sorbonne and he was working at the United States Embassy in Paris.

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The first time I saw her I felt a strange thrill that I could not understand, along with a desire to be around her as much as I could. We were at the Student Union building, in a large, circular booth, just hanging out between classes. The booth was growing more crowded for a while but by the time the next period started it began to thin out. I skipped a class because I could not bring myself to leave while she was there.

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I made my way down the ramp at the gate, trying to locate the baggage claim area, while also glancing into the faces welcoming the flight to the great State of Wisconsin. If only Seth carried a sign that read "JANIE" maybe finding him would be easier.

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As I awoke it felt as if a freight train was actually traveling through my head. I immediately hugged the pillow again. 'Too much wine last night' was the main thought going through my mind. Of course, without all that wine, I probably would not have experienced one of the best nights of my life.

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