Your erotic stories

Every year the Company held a Halloween party and it never failed to be a masquerade though the theme changed every year to keep the concept from becoming boring. This year the theme just happened to be 'favorite actor/actress'. Mya didn't go every year, actually her track record was one party every two years for the past eight years that she had worked for the Company which only put her at four parties total. Well...it would be four after this year's party, at least.

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During his senior year of high school Jeremy Richards decided he was going to work on changing his life, he had always gotten good grades in school and was always considered to be well behaved. He never tried playing sports and he was always thirty pounds overweight so this year he decided he was going to play sports along with his academics. In the fall he played soccer and he did make the team but sat the bench most of the year getting to play in the last game for a few minutes.

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"They are real!" Harry said emphatically, glaring at the drunken brothers sitting across the bar from him. Billy had fallen off his stool, assisted by the wildly flailing arms of his larger brother; but Billy usually did anyway; and Bob, trying to keep from falling was holding tightly to the bar, tears in his eyes, howling with laughter.

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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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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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CHAPTER 1 Sun shafts through the treetops infiltrated early morning mist over the river as Loretta Oblinger sat in the sales office, hands warmed by a hot mug of coffee resting against her breasts. Smiling faintly, she contemplated the scene and thought about the wedding she'd attend that afternoon, alone, although the invitation stated 'and partner'.

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Irene lives over my back fence. She has been alone for most of 10 years that I've lived in this house. Her husband had been the local OSHA inspector who had perished during a routine safety inspection downtown. He was testing the safety cabling around the perimeter of the 18th floor of a high rise under construction, when he tripped and fell into a wheel barrow full of water, knocked himself out and drowned. The story was glorified a bit about having fallen to his death, but I knew better.

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I got to my desk to find a bright orange donut and a small gourd on my desk. Next to it was a note. I opened it. "Halloween Masquerade Ball" and the date on the weekend. I pushed it aside. I hadn't had a date in months and wasn't planning on going alone. I'd stay home and on the real Halloween, hand out cavity causing candy to the urchins on the street. Later in the day Noah from accounting walked by my desk. Then he walked back the other direction.

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I remember when I was twenty-seven and sleeping with a thirty-eight year old she seemed such an older woman. My friends were impressed and a bit curious. She really did seem, not old, but older than me, different. I was curious about her body and enjoyed fucking her. She, it seemed, enjoyed her ’toy boy’. Now, years later, I find the tables turned and a woman of twenty-seven hardening my forty-two year old cock. Again my friends are impressed and curious and I’m very interested in her hard little body.

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As I begin this account, let me say that it is all written in English even though many of the events transpired in French, the true language of love. A good friend of mine, Amy, runs a series of language immersion programs for college age students and adults. Some of the programs are tours abroad. Others are at a camp in the mountains that Amy leases during the late summer. Amy called to tell me that if I was available, she had a spot for an assistant French instructor.

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