Your erotic stories

The neighborhood seemed neat, quiet, and well-established, a lot like Bette herself. The little apartment building fit the surroundings comfortably. I checked my directions one more time, and found her door, number three. I noted the silly coincidence -- this was to be the third time we'd been together. As I raised my hand to knock on the door, I noticed that my mouth had gone to cotton, like a nervous teenager. I guess you never outgrow some things. (I hope not!)

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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I suppose you could say it all started just before I reached my 40th birthday. I knew that I still felt the same inside as I did in my early 20's, but now needed to prove it to myself, and the world! I had recently called time on my marriage to a man who had constantly belittled me, refused to let me wear make-up, lose my baby weight, or wear fashionable clothes and worst of all had tried to cut me off from all my friends and family.

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Now, right from the start, let’s get the details over and done with. My name is Jan, well, Janet actually, but let’s stick with Jan as everybody else does. I’m fifty-two at the time of writing, but was fifty when the events I shall relate took place. I am five feet six inches tall. Buxom, in fact very buxom, but its all firm. Nothing flops about, including my bosom – 40 C if you want to know, but then, I don’t often wear a bra because I like to show off my nipples.

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"Asshole," Jeri said out loud as she drank a tall glass of water near the kitchen sink. Jeri stared lazily at the backyard where the young neighbor was mowing and trimming the backyard. It had been a task he had completed every summer for them for several years. Jeri and her husband had paid him well for his work, which wasn't so good when he first started, but became better and better. Being a scorching day, he was out there with his shirt off. Jeri would watch if she was home when he worked, but never fathomed the idea of anything more.

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Walt was home on leave after his two year tour of duty in Naples, Italy. He had joined the Marines after high school and reported to Parris Island for boot camp in the summer of 1959. After ITR training at Camp Lejeune he was shipped off via MSTS to his first duty station. On the route to Naples the ship made a few stops at Ports of Call, one of them being Barcelona, Spain. It was there that Walt lost his virginity to a pretty Spanish working girl. He had spent nearly three hours with her and he had learned more in that span of time then he would have imagined. He returned to the ship that night with the smile of a cat that just ate the canary.

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IT was a typical Midwest high school in the late 1970's but what happened there could have as easily happened just yesterday. There were the usual Friday night football games and dances. There were several sub-groups within the school; you know the nerds, the jocks, the druggies, preppies, and most of all the rest of the kids who tried just to get by.

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Although Jo took Ann to the same area several more times following their encounter with the voyeur, the man never reappeared. At least, not physically. But he remained vivid in Ann's imagination. At home, Roger's attentions continued to be spasmodic and unsatisfying, and while meetings of the Friday Flower Club, supplemented by private sessions with Jo, delivered orgasms of varied intensity, Ann was growing conscious of something missing.

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My preference is for stories are all about the sex rather than with vast amounts of background, so this is in that vein. The plot is based loosely on a story I read many, many years ago; I don't recall the author or title. I'd love to say this happened to me but that would be ludicrous: the scenario is a sexual fantasy and not meant to be completely realistic.

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I live alone in my own apartment in the suburbs. Most of my time is spent working long hours so that doesn't give me much time keeping my place in order. I thought it might be a good idea to get myself a housekeeper or at the very least someone just to clean up and keep the place in somewhat of an orderly fashion.

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