Your erotic stories

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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Harry stood outside of the shop shivering in the cold as he nonchalantly peeked in the windows building up the courage to enter the store. Acting as if her were waiting for someone he would wander away from the windows, glance at his watch and then wander back to the windows trying to decide exactly what he wanted to buy. Unfortunately, each time he saw a few interesting items, the window would begin to fog from his breath so he'd back out toward the street, look up and down the sidewalk and then glance at his watch.

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It was back in the forties, a more innocent time. It was the summer after I graduated from high school and I was eighteen. I was not as worldly and knowing as most young men are today. Mrs. Bronson hailed me from across the street. "I just made me a fresh squeezing of lemonade. Stop in and have a drop." When walking uptown, I always waved to Mrs. Bronson when I passed. I was planning to take in a Thursday night double feature.

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There was just something about my girlfriends mom that I couldn't put my finger on. If I was honest with myself I would say that I had secretly fancied her since the first time I met her and this feeling had only grown with time. Although her daughter was a great girl I had always had a long held fantasy about older women and wished that someday it could be fulfilled.

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"So?" Jason asked as he rolled up at the bottom of the drive on his mountain bike. Robert held up his phone, showing the message from his older brother with two specifically capitalized words in an otherwise innocuous message — care package. "Sweet. Let's roll." The pair set out on the gravel road, riding even deeper into the middle of nowhere. Living out in the country certainly had its disadvantages, but there were a few things that helped offset the boredom and inconvenience. One of them was the lack of prying eyes.

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Susan looked back over the numbers as she sipped her coffee. In the background, chatty morning talk radio spoke of sports and sex positions and someone laughed. There is always laughter on morning talk radio. Something is always funny. But Susan couldn't enjoy it, because there was no time to laugh. She was crunching her businesses' numbers.

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Let's start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood. The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda. The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, "You're single?" The customer grins and nods his head. "You can tell by my meal, huh?" And the girl says, "No, you're fuckin' ugly." It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.

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Robert Kyle had finally had it. Everyday he allowed his American History class the last five minutes of the period to themselves. And everyday during those last five minutes, the female student sitting directly in front of him would do something to give him a raging hard-on. Dropping a pencil. Re-tying a shoelace. Tossing something in the wastebasket and missing by a mile. All three caused her to have to bend over.

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Tom was bored. His mother had asked him to help the ladies auxiliary of the schools parents and citizens committee conduct their fashion parade. He had agreed and then found that he was the only male student to do so. Mrs Turnbull from the local franchise of Victoria’s Secret was supplying the clothes. The schools younger mothers were acting as models. A sprinkling of older mature women was added to help swell the crowd.

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She first saw him working outside. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but it appeared he was checking some wires that connected to the back of the house. From a distance, she could see he wore a uniform of standard-issue work pants and a clean, collared shirt. His back was turned to her, giving her a nice view, and when he leaned down she scolded herself for letting her eyes travel downward. Brushing aside her wanton thoughts as the distractions to which she had only recently grown accustomed, she decided to ask him what he was doing, since it was her house he was kneeling behind.

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