Your erotic stories

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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Georgie sat at the table deep in thought. It had been six months since she and Tim had been together, six glorious months. At first she had been very conscious of the large age difference, especially when they went out together, but that had diminished over time, especially when she received envious looks from her peers. She loved Tim and would do anything to make him happy, that is why she was sitting in this restaurant.

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I sometimes think that the most unexpected thing in life is the unexpected. I mean, when your life has gone along uneventfully for many years you don’t expect to suddenly find yourself faced with a whole new situation. For those interested, my name is Arianrhod, the name choice of Welsh parents who probably had no idea what my fellow students at school would do with that name. “Ari” “Aria” “Ria” “Anrod” “Rod” are just some of the more polite samples.

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Chapter I Maggie Dantino and I had been friends since 1984. We were attending different colleges in Boston and met while working part-time at Saks 5th Avenue. It was the summer of 1986, when Maggie invited me to her parent's home in Pine Hill, NJ. Her younger brother was graduating from Prep School and her folks were throwing a huge party. Of course I jumped at the chance to get out of Boston for a weekend.

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I hated working nights. My social life was in tatters and I was bored to oblivion. Attempting to give instructions to people who had zapped their computers was like trying to teach chimpanzees to play chess. "Go to start, it's at the bottom left of your screen and then scroll up until you see Control Panel and click it. Yes you have to switch your computer on first." Why are people playing with their computers at three in the morning anyway; don't they ever go to bed?

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