Your erotic stories

Linda Jones was in the grocery store picking up a few things when she saw her friend Lisa Miller and her son Tommy. Lisa was supposed to come over later in the afternoon with a few friends for bridge club. "Hi Linda," Lisa called out, waving at her in the produce aisle. "Tommy, you remember Mrs. Jones don't you? Be a good boy and say hello."

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Paula Reardon, hot and bothered, placed the box into the open boot of her Honda hatchback. Most of the furniture was on its way, the rest tomorrow, and the house was half empty, and rather ghostly, now. Tomorrow she'd be away from here. Away from the abrasive memories Brian the Bastard had left her. Set up and living with his French floozie, wasn't he?

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Her passing had been very sudden. We had been sat together watching nothing in particular on the TV and she had slipped into a sleep that I realised, eventually, was death. The family had been caring, the funeral sensitive and then followed the lowliness -- that awful sense that something was missing in my life. Our children had all left home, but living close, they had kept in touch, not oppressively, but supportively.

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Dana Lee Pruitt finished pulling her long, silky, blonde hair off of her face and tied it in a high ponytail near the top of her head. She was dressed in a pale blue bikini top that matched her eyes. It did a better job of revealing her firm, champagne glass tits than it did of hiding them. She owned a matching thong to go with the top but currently wore a pair of skin tight, black, Lycra bicycle shorts instead of the thong.

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"When a person does not give up on sex, sex does not give up on the person." (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) Tania sat on an air mattress beneath the old apricot tree that was one of the trees that constituted the orchard part of the garden. Beyond the orchard and screened from her sight by a high brush fence was the swimming pool from which emanated the cries, squeals and laughter of the young people, Peter, her son's friends.

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I sat down with a heavy sigh of relief as my brother and I dropped the last, huge, brown box in front of our new couch. He heaved out a long winded breath of his own as his wiped his forehead with the back of hand. "Shit, I'm glad we're finally finished moving all of this useless junk..," He irritated mumbled as he smacked a pack of Newports against his palm and pulled one out of the pack, along with a plastic lighter.

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Tracy, my new found and rather older lover was, I discovered rapidly, not simply a tease but one who enjoyed it. Each morning as Tracy said, "good morning" she slipped me a sealed envelope before walking down the platform to chat with her friend. I tore the first on open immediately. It read, Dearest Sweetest David. I am so looking forwards to you driving your hot rod in and out of my garage once more. You've missed a treat today, silly me I forgot to put any panties on.

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Stephanie breathed a deep sigh as she once again sat in traffic on the interstate. Yet another commute in a life full of them. It seemed that this was all her life had been since her divorce five years ago. Commute, work, commute, sleep, commute, work and so on and so on. At age forty-six she needed a change, but the rut she was stuck in was so deep it seemed that climbing out would be impossible. Today was just like any other day except it was Wednesday, not Tuesday or Friday or even Monday. It was just another day in a string of days that seemed to never change.

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Dana Lee Pruitt finished pulling her long, silky, blonde hair off of her face and tied it in a high ponytail near the top of her head. She was dressed in a pale blue bikini top that matched her eyes. It did a better job of revealing her firm, champagne glass tits than it did of hiding them. She owned a matching thong to go with the top but currently wore a pair of skin tight, black, Lycra bicycle shorts instead of the thong.

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I washed my bowl out and set it in the sink. Glancing over at the stove, I put the lid back on the pot of Chili and wiped my hands on a towel hanging from the oven. Turning up the glass of iced water, I all but chugged it down to wash the spice from my mouth. I knew I needed to quit eating hot chili. I dreaded the inevitable heartburn I would no doubt experience later.

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