Your erotic stories

About Alexis: Alexis is a twenty-three year old senior law student of mine, studying trial advocacy. She was also an outstanding member of the law school's mock trial advocacy team, which I coached. We came into contact with each other way too much. I kept having this feeling that she was hanging around me more than necessary, dropping by my office to ask odd questions or just to chat. She was incredibly bright, a gifted student who hardly had to study to make top ten-per-cent grades.

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My son's best friend Seth is The Ladies Man of their high school. Seth is 18 years old and 6'3" about 205 lbs. with beautiful blonde hair and the body and face of a model. He's was the quarterback of the football team and is a very confident young man. Seth signed a national letter of intent to play college football in the fall at a Big Ten school. Now that High school is ending he is beginning to focus on an exciting college football career.

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Travelling for work is not as much fun as it used to be. All those airports, those sleepless journeys, being up to speed on most movies and Discovery Channel documentaries is no substitute for a regular life. Constantly hopping from hotel to hotel, albeit with grander and grander rooms then suites as the work and career progressed. Learning to pack for a week in a walk-on bag and still look smart every day - an unwished for skill but essential nonetheless.

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I listen to a woman's voice singing in a language I have forgotten, drinking tea I can not name. In a place I can not pronounce. Yet for all that I spent years here. The air is full of the strange smells that are now as foreign to me, as I am to this place. Yet they are so very familiar at the same time. Haunting smells filled with old half-forgotten memories.

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I've always loved Paris art cinemas. These old, worn-out theatres, showing forgotten films in bad state, smelling of rotten fabric and dust, nowhere in the world is quite like them. There is something special about Parisian art-house cinemas; the very bohemian meets the very snotty, the richness of the film and the beauty on the screen conflicting with the nastiness of the space and people.

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Steve had thought that he'd have a quiet Saturday afternoon to himself. The house was empty. His wife had gone shopping with friends, the boys were out with their mates and Kirsty had to go to the library to complete the paper she had to write. She'd hoped not to go, but found she was missing some information at the last minute and so had to make a quick dash.

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It started early Sunday morning on Memorial Day weekend when I got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. We were renting a beach house in the Outer Banks and I was really thirsty from the veggie pizza we had for dinner. I slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen. I heard the living room TV on and assumed the two girls had come back late from their meet up with the boys they earlier teased at the beach, watched some TV and had left it on.

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Part 1 It was almost 7:30 in the evening as I made my way east on West 53rd toward my hotel when the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. I didn't have an umbrella, of course, because - even though my hotel had complimentary ones - men don't use umbrellas...so they can get wet...because that makes us cool. But, instead of being cool, I decided to get dry and have a drink.

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Today is her birthday and Tim has waited a long time for this surprise. He intends to make this a birthday to remember. All day long he has been planning and preparing things for their special night. The picnic basket is packed with a lovely bottle of wine, cheese, crackers, fruit and her favorite chocolates. Tim remembered the chocolates, the little smooth ones that melt so delicately in your mouth.

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It was as I was returning from a trip up to Manchester that I saw the sign: 'Stewartby Park Prestige Hotel'. I vaguely remembered hearing that the old place had been converted, some years after she died, but it hadn't really hit home to me until that moment. Before I'd even realised it I'd swung the car between the gate posts and started up that familiar wide, sweeping gravel drive, framed by rhododendron bushes. After a few hundred yards I rounded a corner and saw again the huge, sprawling former stately home I'd last set eyes on more than 30 years earlier, its crooked Tudor chimneys silhouetted against the afternoon sky.

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