Your erotic stories

The chain link fence that had served as the border between his and Jean's yard seemed a lot shorter than it used to. Since he had been 12 he had taken care of her children, well a lot of the neighborhood kids after school till their parent got home. And maybe Jean knew of the affect which she had on him. Well granted not to the degree of perversion. For example she was probably was not aware how he had arranged the growth of vegetation on the fence so that a line of sight was clear from his window to her garden.

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Slowly I moved over to the stereo and pushed play so one song would play on repeat. I turn to face him my pale blue eyes focusing on him as I suck in a slow breath as the song "the fragile" by nine inch nails begins to play. I wear only a pair of tight fitting jeans, thong panties and matching red lace bra. Slowly as I walk toward him my hips sway in a slow sensual motion as I let my mind get lost in the moment and the rhythm of the music. I take another slow breath as I stand before him looking down upon him as he sits in his chair with a smirk.

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"I don't think I'll be able to attend tonight's committee meeting. My damn husband is out of town again and I can't find a babysitter." I was standing behind two attractive women in the grocery store's express check-out. "Amy, you have to come. You've done all the work to date and we need the project to remain on track." "I know . . . I know. I'll make a few more calls and see if I can find a sitter."

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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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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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For all intents and purposes, this is a sequel of sorts of my first story. Those who read the first story know about the affair I had begun with John and how it helped liberate me from the shackles of my life. It takes place after my lunch with my daughter, Beth. She had gone to tell John about the man she had met and how she had already slept with this man. John reacted in bewildered amazement, according to my daughter, cursing at her before leaving the apartment. Beth called me immediately in tears, upset that she had made a mistake.

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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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Upon opening her eyes, Mrs. Cummings looked out the window to see it was a dreary and cloudy day. Kind of like her marriage. Will, or Mr. Cummings has become a stranger to her. He stays at work at all hours of the night, and travels a lot on business trips… or so he told her. Mrs. Cummings was a beautiful woman with a body that many forty-year old women only wish they had. She was also a great cook, took care of the house, and their daughter Symone.

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Dave was spading the flowerbed along the fence but his attention was on his wife who was planting flowers in the bed around the fountain. At forty-five, Jane was still a very impressive woman, especial bent over on her knees with her ass up in the air. The old cut offs she wore showed more than a little of her ass cheeks and allowed the plump outer lips of her sex to peek at him. The tent in the front of his shorts was a jutting testimonial to her sexiness.

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"Okay Heather if you want to be like that, fuck you! I'm not gonna stand here and take this shit. We're done." "Fuck you back you asshole! You damn right we're done! I want a man that treats me well!" "You mean you want a man that's whipped, that caters to your every idiotic whim, that hands over money because he's your personal ATM. In other words, you want a chump. I'm not a chump, nor that desperate. Besides, you ain't even that good. Goodbye."

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