Your erotic stories

I didn't think too much about it the first time I saw Merrill and David together. After all, one wouldn't make a connection would one: she, an almost-thirty-three, high-flying tax lawyer and he a high school student? They sat chatting in the late afternoon sunshine on the low stone wall that separates my garden and that of David's parents. They weren't even facing each other; more shoulder-near-shoulder, facing in opposite directions, with their feet in their respective gardens.

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Leonard Hazard was the King, no doubt about it. Lots of people were telling him he was so good at all of the extreme sports that he should be in national competition. What he loved was his skateboard, he could do things on it that appeared to be impossible. There was even a local competition which he had won so easily it wasn't even a competition really, when he went up the ramp and caught air he was a good two feet higher than anyone else.

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I had just arrived home on break from college and was in Chip’s neighborhood, so I figured I’d just drop in and see if he’d gotten home yet. No one answered when I rang the doorbell and I was about to head back down the driveway when I heard a splash, indicating that someone was using the pool. I walked around the side of the house thinking it might be Chip but stopped before I opened the gate to the backyard. I could see the diving board still vibrating and a figure just surfacing at the shallow end of the pool.

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Chapter One "Annie is my 2 o'clock here yet?" Dr Janet Waters released the button on the intercom. "Not yet. Shall I send him in when he gets here?" Annie replied. "Yes please." Janet Waters released the intercom button and took a glance out the window. Fall colors were beginning to emerge on the hillsides surrounding Salt Lake City. Moving her eyes to the traffic four floors below her office window, Janet thought that perhaps the heavier than usual traffic on the streets below were causing her next patient to run a little behind schedule.

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I have often pondered the manner in which society has changed in its view of sexual relations over my lifetime. It is now quite accepted that older people, for example grandparents, still enjoy sex. It has not always been that way. There is no doubt that Grandparents used to to do it back then, but it was simply not acknowledged. Today of course, one could make a date with a grandparent online and be screwing that evening.

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I had been with the company for three years and thinking about leaving until I was transferred to a mid-size Rocky Mountain town. For me it was a dream come true; out of the city, fresh mountain air, and plenty of open road to ride my bike. Being 28 I had been into road bicycles since college and I was a weekend racer. In my new environment and with my new job, that had me out of the office most of the time, I could ride virtually whenever I wanted.

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There is a lake bordering the Southwest side of my property, it's fairly large, and I have several hundred feet of shoreline, mostly trees and brush, with a few open areas. The rest of the lake is surrounded by National Forest, with the county road running along the western tip. Every so often campers will wander onto my land, so I make a habit of checking over that way weekly during the summer months.

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The thought of his lips on her clit sent a buzz through her belly and up her spine -- like sexual thoughts had intoxicated her mind when she was a teenager. But she was no longer a teenager. Professor Sherry looked in the mirror in the restroom before she walked back to her class. She didn't look 40. She definitely didn't feel 40. Her palms pushed down against her pert breasts covered in her deep purple blouse.

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Anna's parents came from Europe. Her father was a tall blond from Poland and her mother a red-haired beauty from Ireland. Yet poor Anna was stuck with the wrong branch of the DNA. She was six feet and then some in her socks. Her face was plain with a broad forehead, long jaw and beaked nose. Most of her height was in her legs. She wore men's jeans with a 30 inch waist and 36 inch inseam. Her hair was neither blond nor red but a sad mixture resulting in a rough brown. Her height served her well in obtaining a volleyball scholarship to college where she majored in business.

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I was always amazed at how someone from my past unfailingly seemed to turn up on opening nights of exhibitions. It didn't seem to matter which city I was in, some old school friend, long lost family member or an acquaintance from the photography fraternity seemed to find the ads for my openings in the small print and turn up to say hi.

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