Your erotic stories

Ironically, it was my husband who noticed you first. As you climbed out of the pool in one of those frighteningly brief bikinis that the young of today wear and which put the fear of Christ up older women like me, he said. "God I thought that was Emma," referring to our niece. I looked up and saw this lithe, beautiful, impossibly slim, but femininely rounded young woman walking alongside the pool.

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I walked into the pub through the side door. It was just how I remembered it. The sun shone through the front glass doors, to splay rays across the dusty wooden floorboards. My friends were already waiting for me at a table. They'd chosen a great spot, right next to the window, we could feel the warm winter sun through the window panes, yet still all fit comfortably around one table. I hugged most of my friends tight – I had not seen some of them for 8 months!

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The store wasn't opened yet as I walked through my department, women's clothes, to put my purse away in the back. Mary hollered out "Hey Jenny! How's it hanging?" When I said 'hollered', I was being literal. There was nothing subtle about her. Mary is one of those chubby, and I'm trying to be kind, women who can no longer see between their legs because their gut hangs over everything down there. Never have been to her house, or double wide trailer, whatever it is, but I envision it is full of stray cats and dogs, and surely no man or husband or partner of any kind to be found or even a trace of a past one.

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The roses are blooming in the rather plain jar on my desk. It's a canning jar, it once held pickles I think, like the jars that used to line the shelves in your kitchen. The florist thinks I'm ridiculous for my regular purchase of three roses, one pale pink, two darker pink, but they remind me so much of you.

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As the van cruised the streets it parked near the bus station. There was the perfect target. A young male around 18 or so with his back pack and ragged clothes stood alone outside smoking all alone. He was not from here, that's for sure. The two women inside the van pulled up to him. "Killing time between busses I'll bet," the smiling short haired blonde in the passenger seat asked smiling.

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Hi, my name is Laura, and my husbands name is Don, he is forty and I'm thirty-eight. We were living fairly comfortably until I was laid off from a dot.com company and then Don's company was bought up by another company, and if he wanted to keep his job, he had to take a demotion, which meant a cut in pay.

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It has been two weeks since my sexual adventure with Angie and Billy and I can't get it out of my mind. I haven't seen Angie since that day but I see her mother, Sarah, frequently. When speaking with her I can't help but picture me licking her sweet daughter's pussy and I get wet every time. Since then I have followed my normal daily routine. My husband, David, has been in Europe on business for the last three weeks and I am lonesome.

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It was raining outside - a typical Amsterdam spring day with heavy grey cloud casting a chill gloom upon the city. A Little natural light was managing to find its way through the dirty, rain spattered windows as they rattled in their frames, carrying with it the luminous presence from the spring leaves on the trees outside that lined the canal.

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Dawn sat on the edge of her bed feeling more awkward than she ever could remember. She looked down at her legs, encased in the white silk stockings and shuddered. Her hands twitched nervously from place to place and she longed to stick them into her pockets, but the short swing skirt she wore had no pockets.

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I pouted as I watched Melanie type away on her laptop. She was so sexy when she was working. She had on her black pajama bottoms and a black sports bra. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and her face wore an expression of concentration. She was an advertising executive at the firm she worked at, and she had to close a deal with some big shoe chain. All of the details were a bit lost on me since I never cared much for business, but she loves it.

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