Your erotic stories

I had been teaching at the university for some 30 years, and I had never encountered such an intriguing vision as Soleil in all my days. She is a beauty, and an enigma. She was breathtakingly refreshing and very frustrating...beautiful, yet exasperating. I came to be rather obsessed with this 20 year old vixen from the first time I saw her in class, just something about her that caught my attention: she was half Thai, and half American.

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Kids! Don't try this at home! Unprotected sex leads to many bad things. A fantasy, based on a lovely lady who is not my photography student, nor any sort of partner, sexual or otherwise. Darkrooms are sexy places. Ever since my friend Peter used to feel up girls in the high school yearbook darkroom – with full compliance and complicity – I have known darkrooms to be wonderful places.

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Dan was alone. After many years of a very happy marriage he lost his beloved wife Mary to cancer. He had taken early retirement in order to look after in the last few months and now he missed her dreadfully. Eighteen months had passed since the funeral and Dan had completed just about every bit of decorating and repair outstanding around the house, including the replacement of the shed and the building of a new summerhouse.

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"Dear Lord, do I feel my age this morning," thought Regina. She got out of bed and hobbled out to the kitchen. She hadn't really wanted to move into this retirement home, but she couldn't keep up the old farmhouse anymore. Her son William had taken over the farm pretty much right after her Frank had passed eight years previous. But Regina had tried to stay on in the house since then. But even that became too much, because it was such a big house to care for.

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Brad parked his SUV before a bright yellow building with the words 'Welcome to The Recycling Center' painted in blue on the wall. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled as he climbed the metal steps and entered the cavernous interior. He stood staring in amazement at the hectic scene before him. Rows of people in brown coveralls stood next to moving conveyor belts filled with trash, deftly plucking cans, bottles, foam cartons and other items from them and dropping them down brightly colored chutes.

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Stephen lay next to Grace. She was too sore from yesterday but didn't let him know it. Lying next to her, his cock was hard again. He wanted her to have it and just as much as the day before. Horny as ever, he looked at her with the look of desperation and thought to himself how extremely beautiful she actually was. "She almost too beautiful for words" he said to himself.

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I knew the moment Leah Finley and her daughter Samantha moved into the small house across the road from me that my life was going to take a very interesting turn. I'm Ken Yates, and I live in a semi-rural area outside a mid-sized Southern city in a small house located on three acres of land. It's not too far from where I work the second shift as a foreman at a nice-sized manufacturing plant, and that's part of the reason why I was living alone at the time.

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Why did I wait so long to clean the house? Nikki could be arriving at any time. At least the dirty clothes were out of the dryer, folded, hangered, and out of the way. When you work full-time, with a part-time job, there never seems to be enough time to get caught up on the stuff that a woman will immediately notice. Fortunately, Nikki understands and forgives my controlled messiness. She never fails to mention that I am too old to properly keep a house and should hire a maid. But, I would have to seriously clean before allowing a stranger to see my clutter.

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I happened into an unbelievable experience about a year after my wife passed away suddenly at the age of fifty-three. Since we were empty nesters, after it happened, I had pretty much spent many hours a week at my office where I was away from our memories and the loneliness of our now empty house. As was my custom, I left home around 5:00 a.m. and drove the hour to work stopping about half way to get coffee and a New York Times.

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On January 24, 1965, I reached the mature age of nineteen years and left Michigan State University in a snowstorm. It had snowed more than a foot and the drive south to Baroda took over six hours. I have reflected on that day upon more than one occasion in my life, and still marvel at how seemingly innocuous events can have such far-reaching repercussions.

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