Your erotic stories

Serena McGuire hated boats; that was all there was to it. The rolling beneath her feet, the closed confinement. Even the sea air bothered her, although it never had before. Of course, she had been on a beach then. But the combination now had her stomach rolling along with the waves of the ocean. Her best friend, Isabel Trecher, instructed her that if she would actually spend some time on the deck, instead of in their cabin (which happened to be on the lowest deck, complete with two beds, one dresser, and no window), she would feel much better. Probably, Serena mused, because she would be as liquored up as Isabel is.

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When I was younger I used to go visit my sister-in-law at her home. Her name was Shaista. My parents would send me there often since she lived so close. Sometimes I would be all alone with her for the entire afternoon. I was a fairly good-looking kid so most of the women in my family loved me but most especially my sister-in-law Shaista. She was always happy to see me whenever I came over. She loved my boyish face a lot, and she would always say how cute I was.

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It was called "The French Cafe" which would normally be the kind of place I would avoid but one of my co workers got me hooked on the french vanilla mocha latte. I now went there every Sunday like clockwork placing my order before sitting at my favorite table near the back. I would read my Sunday paper and watch the happenings in the small town I called my home. I didn't interact much with the people, that was my wife's job throughout our marriage, as she never met a stranger.

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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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