Your erotic stories

Ted cruised slowly through his old neighborhood. Much had changed, but the Carmichael house still stood. He smiled, remembering the Carmichael girls, Cynthia, and Ann. Cynthia was his age, Ann four years younger. He’d worshipped Cynthia, but he lived in a ramshackle farmhouse across the creek, while they were well-to-do. Her father disapproved of him, and he was shy, so he’d worshipped at a distance.

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'Shit, I'm late again,' I thought as I looked down at my watch. 9:56. I've got four minutes to park the car, run into the mall and punch in before the boss has another reason to yell at me. And like that, I ran as fast as my young legs could take me. With 7 seconds to spare. 'It's gonna be a good day,' I thought as I adjusted myself. As good of a day as one could have at the mall, that is. It was the summer before my sophomore year in college.

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The bench stood along the outside wall between Krogers and Starbucks. Al liked to sit there with a cup of coffee, people-watching, and daydreaming. Today he sipped his coffee, and wondered if the white-haired woman with the poodle would come by again. He'd seen her several times. About his age, slim, well dressed and classy, she'd been aloof and cool at first, but as time went on, she seemed warmer.

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Let me start by saying that I am always willing to step up and admit when I've made a mistake. I also hate being wrong so I have a tendency to avoid situations where those words "I was wrong" would have to escape my mouth. That said, the phrase "This is stupid," kind of became my mantra as my minivan sped along the nearly deserted roads to the lake. It was too late to turn back so I let those cursed words roll around in the back of my mouth.

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It was pouring rain as I pounded on the door to my best friend's house. The lights weren't on and her car wasn't in the driveway, but I was so enraged that I didn't care. I was about ready to give up on the door and just crash through the front window when the light in the front hall came on and the door flew open. "What in the hell..." Ashley's dad looked furious until he saw me. His jaw dropped as he looked at me, and he was silent for a moment. "Nicole, what's going on?"

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Many years ago I was pretty active in taking outdoor photographs. I hated doing people, and especially didn't like doing weddings but they paid a lot better than the occasional sell of a scenic photo, so I shot weddings and family portraits as they came along. Like I said, that was quite a few years ago. When kids came along there wasn't time for my photo trips and the activity died out. Now, with the kids all on their own and me single again, there's a lot more time to do the things I want to do.

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Drew put-in before Dooley Bridge, his goal being to photograph the length of the river through town, marking its changes as it went from rural to urban to estuarine environments in the space of four miles. Being June and approaching the summer solstice in this northern state, the sky began to lighten before five in the morning. Drew had been up since four, having loaded his kayak onto his Subaru the previous evening. His main goal was to be up before the tourists and their jet skis, and he had provided himself a wide buffer.

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Simon thought little of it when his Secretary reminded him she was taking her annual leave from Monday, distractedly answering her by asking if she had managed to organise a temporary replacement. "Yes," she replied, slightly testily, "she'll be here on Monday." "Good" he replied, feeling slightly irritated by her tone, "I hope it's not somebody straight from school who hasn't the faintest idea how to answer a telephone"

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Newport, New York 1972 was just as sleepy a little town as it is today. Despite the simple rural setting, like any other town there were countless stories going on behind closed doors. This was one of them. *** "You look lovely tonight, Mrs. B." Kenny said as he walked into the kitchen of his neighbor, closing the door behind him, and as the woman who had let him in rolled her eyes, the young man smiled and followed her over to the sink.

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I was already bored with my 'date' from the night before, the prototypical one-nighter with a nurse from Clifton Park who chain-smoked like a runaway locomotive. As Apollo Creed once told Rocky Balboa,"Ain't gonna be no rematch." Rocky, of course, grunted back, "Don't want one." So, in all fairness, I'm sure the feeling was mutual. We both got what we wanted, that's what makes a one-nighter a one-nighter, right?

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