Your erotic stories

Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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When I was 18 my family lived in the English Midlands. My parents both worked for a pharmaceutical firm and they were working at its English subsidiary. We lived in a small village about 20 miles outside of Birmingham. Because both my parents worked they could afford to send me to a public school—which in England means a private school. The school was in the city, and I would ride in with parents every morning and ride back home again every evening.

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I'm Anna, a small-town-librarian, who loves to fly, but I wasn't always so brave about it. In fact, not too long ago, I began all of my flights with a death-grip on the armrests, praying my head off. This irrational fear led to a bit of fun with George, and several months later...a LOT of fun with Sean. It all started, one quiet afternoon at the library, which is when I usually do a little personal research on the Internet.

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I was in my own little world as I walked into my office. It was 5:30 and everyone else had already gone for the day. I was looking over some home office reports that I'd just picked up from the mailroom as I walked. I sat down at my desk and continued reading the reports for another minute or two when I suddenly got the feeling of being watched. I looked up across my office and, through the open door to the next room, saw Kerry sitting at the conference table.

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I love my life. I don't know if this happens to other people but I have a recurring theme in my life where past experiences come back, not to haunt me, but to enrich my life even further. My life is not without pain and tragedy, to be sure, but I think I am blessed with good fortune nonetheless. This story is an unexpected continuation of another tale of mine, "A Night at Karen's House," and I suggest you read the original first.

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Gary parked their car in the handicap parking space and, after hanging the decal on the cars rearview mirror, got out and walked to the passengers side of the car. Opening it, he helped his wife, Brenda, out and they slowly made their way into the restaurant. Even at seventy-six years or age, Brenda was still the attractive wife he had married so many years before.

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Mary Jane had been pleasantly plump when he married her. She had been a joyful, bubbly soul with a generous smile and a non-stop urge to fuck and suck. Ten years on, frustrated by her inability to have children, she suddenly turned on herself. He watched, helpless, as she drove herself on diet regimens that reduced both her bubbly body and personality to a skinny, almost anorexic shadow of her former self. He despaired and mourned for her, now lost in an obsession he couldn’t understand.

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As I drove home, I couldn't believe how incredibly frustrated I was -- sexually, that is. I hadn't had sex for months -- with a man, at least. I'd had plenty with little vibrator, but that's just not the same. My husband and I were estranged, probably heading for divorce, and my prospects for the future (sexually) were uncertain. I'd had a dinner meeting that evening with clients that was a last minute thing and I'd been lucky enough to get my regular baby sitter, Kara, on such short notice.

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I had sold a run-down house to Cory Tomas a few years ago. He is about forty-five, is a local truck driver, has a big beer belly, is a good poker player and seems to be a good father to his pre-teen kids when they stay with him every other weekend. Of course I also know his financial situation, but other than those things, I only know that he always seems to have a reasonably pretty, shy woman with him. Each one would stay a few months and then there would be a new one. One day he told me about the free Texas Hold'em tournaments at one of our local bars.

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Betty awakened to the sound of water running in her bathroom. It took her a moment to remember that she hadn't fallen asleep alone. Bill had come to see her that morning. She was laying on her side, facing away from the bathroom door. Looking out the window, she could see, across the Intracoastal Waterway, the cement tile roofs of Ft. Lauderdale as it stretched all the way to the Everglades.

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