Your erotic stories

A good friend of mine referred me to this great Italian restaurant in a city about 3 hours from where I lived. I asked him, "What the hell makes this place so special that I would be willing to drive 3 hours?" He told me the service was worth the trip alone, and the food was even better. I took some time to think it over and a few days later I called to make a reservation. The person on the phone asked my age, and if I preferred smoking, non-smoking, or the cigar lounge.

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Sara and Jon's first meeting was literally explosive. Sara had never felt such deep animalistic lust in all her life! They had met at a wedding. He was the groom's cousin and Sara was a friend of the bride's. Sara hadn't noticed him at the actual ceremony but later, at the reception when the party was in full swing. He had been standing chatting with a group a of people and the way he had thrown back his head and laughed at something someone said just caught her right in the stomach, the heart, the core – whatever! – It got her!

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The thumping bass sound announced the approach of Miguel's car long before Damon saw it come around the corner and pull up to the side of the basketball court. Damon took one last shot, banking the ball off the backboard and through the hoop before jogging over to the high chain link fence surrounding the court where Miguel's car sat on the other side. The passengers side window of Miguel's Camry slid down and Luke leaned out.

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The time was 1995 and the place was a sleepy suburb of Albany, New York. He was a bored man in his mid-40s whose wife had taken off with another guy, leaving him with a house he didn't want and a lot of time on his hands - until he started paying attention to the sights around him.

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“Christ, look at the tits on that!” he murmured to himself. They were indeed quite a pair, bulging out against the constraints of a cardigan that did little to hide their voluptuousness. She was obviously walking for fitness as she also wore sunglasses, a peaked cap, track suit pants and runners. She was well over 50 and grey hair tied in a pony tail hung to her shoulders. She was not slender and as she passed, he took in the size of her superstructure and the size of her rear. “Counter balanced,” he thought to himself.

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Sally Perkins pulled her car into the driveway. She sat there for a few moments wondering what she was going to do for the week. Will, her 19 year old son was visiting with his father who moved away after separating from her two years ago. "Well these groceries aren't going to put themselves away." Sally said to herself aloud. She opened the door and stepped out of the car. The hot late morning sun felt good on her face and heated her body though the light sundress.

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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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