Your erotic stories

The engine ticked lightly, rhythmically, having only recently completed a twenty mile journey. Rain dripped from the frame of the car, from the edges of its bumpers. The windows were blurred, save for the two arches where the wipers had recently swept drops from the tempered glass. The car didn't belong there. Not in that parking lot. Not in that town.

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When I was a junior in college, I got a part-time job doing computer work at a small consulting firm. It was a friendly, informal group - the founder, a handful of consultants, the office secretary, and me. The secretary, Patty, quickly became the object of many of my fantasies. She was in her early 40's, with short chestnut brown hair, green eyes, maybe 5'4", and slim, but voluptuously curvy. She was divorced and the mother of a teenage boy. We hit it off well, and quickly became friendly.

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She stepped off the plane into the brisk fall wind. It was September only, and this was such a change from what she was used to. She grabbed her carry on from the steward at the bottom of the stairs with a smile. Stupid puddle-jumper plane was so small her carry on hadn't even fit in the overhead. She walked across the tarmac to the small regional airport, shivering in the cold wind. The little Saab plane had been a bumpy ride, which kept her awake the whole flight from Toronto. She was looking forward to getting to the place the school was putting her up in while she settled in.

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I had just finished a nice dinner and was walking back to the Bed and Breakfast where I was staying. It was still light and there was an orange glow in the west where the sun had set over the Pacific. I thought a glass of wine would be just the thing before turning in. Fortunately, the B&B had some available, honor system of course. That's what I like about them, so friendly, so trusting.

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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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When I was younger I used to go visit my sister-in-law at her home. Her name was Shaista. My parents would send me there often since she lived so close. Sometimes I would be all alone with her for the entire afternoon. I was a fairly good-looking kid so most of the women in my family loved me but most especially my sister-in-law Shaista. She was always happy to see me whenever I came over. She loved my boyish face a lot, and she would always say how cute I was.

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She is a recent regular at the gym I work out at. I have often revelled in the lovely perfume she exudes when she walks in. Her flawless skin, toned body and distractingly prominent, firm and bouncing breasts have always made it quite a task to avoid noticing her. Particularly because while working out she is always in different coloured, men style body-hugging stretchable sleeveless vests, which are more like appendages to bring more attention to her breasts, that end some two inches above her pierced belly button that has a lovely diamond dangler.

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Serena McGuire hated boats; that was all there was to it. The rolling beneath her feet, the closed confinement. Even the sea air bothered her, although it never had before. Of course, she had been on a beach then. But the combination now had her stomach rolling along with the waves of the ocean. Her best friend, Isabel Trecher, instructed her that if she would actually spend some time on the deck, instead of in their cabin (which happened to be on the lowest deck, complete with two beds, one dresser, and no window), she would feel much better. Probably, Serena mused, because she would be as liquored up as Isabel is.

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This is a true story. All of the events are written down here to the best of my knowledge and recollection. My name is Will and I work on the Butcher's counter at Sainsbury's. I'm about 5'11, have got a brown crew cut and green eyes. My build was more skinny than athletic, but I'd still call myself athletic, you know how it is. These events took place in the summer of 2002. I was 19 years old.

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I'm Michael, twenty-eight years old and in the Army now for ten years. I've been all over the world but my favorite place so far is Israel. Maybe it's because what happened several years ago when I was sent there in a cross training exercise with the Israeli IDF. I had been in just three years and had only turned twenty-one. I was part of a training mission that paired Israeli soldiers with US soldiers here in the states.

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