Your erotic stories

It was dark, probably about midnight, when I went into Sally's room. I stood looking over her room with a tremendous hard on pointing into the darkness like a searching finger. I looked down on her bed. As always, it was carefully made up, a modest but neat cotton blanket to keep the chill off during the cool summer nights. On the night stand was a picture of her 30 year-old son, barely visible in the darkness, a lamp and her Bible.

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I own a small automotive shop. We do general service and repair on all years and all makes. I enjoy the work and it makes me a living. I also like the idea of being my own boss. No one to answer to except my customers. I guess you could look at it as having more than one boss to answer to, but I like the work. The best part of the job is that we do a lot of 30's, 40's, 50's and 60's cars. Routine maintenance and service, motor swaps, disc brake conversions, suspension modifications; all kinds of restoration and hot rod work. Love this part of what we do a lot.

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I showed up at the Fisher's house to baby sit in my typical summer outfit of white tennis shorts and a t shirt. Although I had turned eighteen months ago and was about to graduate from high school, I didn't mind babysitting for them. They had a big TV, well-behaved kids, well-stocked fridge and Joanie, their mom, was not only gorgeous, but as I had learned from the occasions when I saw her in a tennis dress and from looking at their vacation beach pictures, she had a great bod!

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The first best word to describe me by is ordinary. The second best word to use is horny as it is possible for a 25 year old young man to be. Add in slender, heavy glasses, insecure, and an almost complete lack of any line of rap? Well, you get the picture. The problem with that combination is that to hook up with a female, I have to work harder at it than some of my buds.

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Rick pulled up into the drive after an especially hard day at the power plant, glad that he'd tacked an extra day off onto his vacation. He was exhausted — ready for a shower and a lazy weekend. Loud music greeted him as soon as he opened the car door. He shook his head and chuckled, making his way to the door.

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Naomi Phillips stood at the bus stop, her shoulders slumped, eyes staring ahead blankly. Her mind kept going over and over the events of the summer, when she and her parents had moved to this new neighborhood. They were so happy and then... Why did her father have to have a fatal heart attack? Why was he having an affair with his secretary? How could he have squandered his wife's and daughter's future on this sordid affair?

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In all the fantasies in my mind, I'm a thin, svelte, beautiful woman. In real life I'm a plump, voluptuous, attractive woman. I have curves like a real woman, not angles like Barbie. The man I'm looking for doesn't have to be a Ken. (Actually, I don't want a Ken, because I want a man with working parts.) I'm not adverse to finding a good looking man. I like a sculpted chest, and I love a nicely formed ass, one that fits well into my hands. Those usually are my standards, I have been known to take a chance on a man who doesn't meet those rules.

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Free. Marie sat there numb, not knowing what to say, do, or think. Her attorney had just informed her that her marriage was over, her life as she knew it would cease to exist, and that she was a free woman at last. Her very recently ex-husband had agreed to all the stipulations (which were very few), and signed the papers terminating their 15-year marriage. All Marie was asking for was "out." Their home that had been lovingly built by the two of them had been auctioned off in a foreclosure sale.

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Mum put the telephone down and turning to me said, "Do you realize you haven't seen Aunt Emma for nearly two years?" "Is it that long?" I asked, glancing up from the book I was reading. "Yes, and she wonders why, she thinks she might have done something to offend you; has she?" "No, I just haven't got around to visiting her and it's a damned long trek out there -- the far flung outposts of..."

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I couldn't believe it after 20 years of marriage and a man supporting me, I was single again and holding down a job. I'm the executive personal assistant for the president of a nonprofit organization. At 43 years old I was still a good-looking woman but wasn't feeling it. My so-called loving husband and provider had left me for a twenty-year girl, who "made him feel like he hadn't in years".

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