Your erotic stories

I hadn't thought about this in years. I've been married for 15 years and stories about ex-girlfriend's and their mothers are not the kind of thing you brag about at the dinner table. The thing that brought this memory back was meeting this particular mother in the mall parking lot. I was getting out of my car and I saw this old lady coming toward me. She seemed familiar. "Mrs taylor?" I said.

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"Bugger it," Colin muttered as he knocked a pile of notes on to the floor. He had been working at the computer on a tutorial paper for most of the morning and had stood up to have a stretch. He knelt down and started to reassemble the notes when he spotted a book among the tangle of wires at the back of computer that at some time must have fallen down the back of the desk. He picked it up, looked at it, and realised that it was a book he had borrowed from his friend Damien at least a couple of months ago and had been forgotten.

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Kara and I walked side-by-side down the long stone stairs away from the Court House. We and done the same thing for quite a few weekdays; she had been staying with me in my big five bedroom house for two months since David's bail was revoked for drugs and alcohol. His big, young, strong body did not swagger as much when the judge handed down seven and a half to twenty for Murder II. He had stolen my car, my deceased wife's wedding rings and killed a woman while driving under the influence.

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I was sitting backwards on one of the chairs in my tenant's kitchen, watching him cover an easel with bold strokes of varying shades of green. Sean had moved into the basement suite in late August, and we'd hit it off right away. He was a nice boy, 22 years old, a couple years older than my own son, who was also away at university.

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Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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I had a philosophy for life --- "keep it on cruise control." Why put out a lot of effort when things come easy? That lasted until the end of the first semester of my junior year of high school, when I brought home my first ever report card with a C. I'm not bragging … school came easy for me, at least up to that point and it wasn't until a couple of years later that I really had a rude awakening. Still I had to explain that C to my parents and of course my explanation was that the teacher didn't really teach anything.

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I hardly recognised him when I saw him. I had been idly sitting on a bench along the river path about halfway through my daily walk when a guy came strolling along dressed in a business suit, which is unusual along the path where casual clothing is the norm. It is customary for people to greet each other, even strangers, along the river path so I glanced up and said, “Hi.”

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I believe I left you as I was slipping into a hot bath, all bubbly. There were some surprises that I couldn't have seen coming this Christmas. To say that I was about to be taught a few lessons in the art of lovemaking and the power of a man, well, read on. The bath was perfect, it felt so soothing. I opened my eyes and saw the vapor floating up from the tub into the cooler aire. The water had an orange, spicy scent to it and it was soft against my skin.

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The rain continued to beat against the roof and the windows on the west side of the cabin. Paul sighed and rolled over. He didn't know what time it was, but it was still dark outside, so he figured it must still be early. He was muzzy from sleep, but awake enough to wonder what had disturbed him enough to waken him. Usually he slept right up until the alarm went off.

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"So, Jack," asked Gillian, our HR Director. "What do you plan to do about Justin and Marge?" "What are my options?" I asked, as I thumbed through the open file spread out on my desk before me. "Disciplinary action, suspension, termination," she recited. "I guess it all depends on how far you want to take it. Termination could prompt legal action on their parts." "Yeah," I said, taking a deep breath. "But I don't like any of those. It seems too severe just because they got caught fooling around in the storeroom."

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