Your erotic stories

LeRoy was sitting on the porch, rocking and rubbing the head of that old hound dog of his, as Dinah walked up the stone path from the mailbox at the edge of the muddy road. She had walked slow up from the bus stop in the nearest town, at the mouth of a fold back into the Blue Ridge. The suitcase she was lugging, balanced on the other side by her guitar case, was heavy, but she wasn't walking slow because of that weight. She was weighed down by something more serious than that.

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It all started simply enough. We had met on a personals site. Each of us had placed an ad, and we eventually got into contact with each other. Though our background and situations were different, we each saw something in the other's profile that piqued the curiosity. We made contact and began chatting.

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I was fortunate when I was younger, and as a result, I never had to worry about money. When my uncle died, he left me and my siblings a sizeable sum, but nothing that was suddenly life changing, for example compared to winning multi millions in a lottery. I still have to work, but will never have to worry about money, either, as long I am sensible. I never brag that I have it. Sure, I have some nice clothes, and a new car every 3-4 years, but I've still developed a career in sales, a career in which I am pretty successful, earning a sensible salary.

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My wife has instructed that I write about how I became her cuckolded husband. Janet and I met through her deceased husband Thomas who passed away six years ago from leukemia. Thomas was an architect and he and I met on a building project. I am a professional contractor. My first wife Jennifer and I had one child after marrying right out of college. Not long after our first child, she filed for divorce when she found evidence I had strayed outside of our marriage.

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Crack. The sound slices like a steel blade through the chatter of the conference room. Heads whip around, staring at me, while I stare at the broken glass of water. The glass of water I was supposed to bring. "Well don't just stand there, clean the bloody thing up." I bend down, black pencil skirt riding up slightly as I gingerly pick up the delicate shards of glass.

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Hi. My name is Tina. I am now 41 years old and have been married to my current husband since I was 28. I have 2 boys ages 21 and 17. This is my first story ever to be put on line and it is the one that may explain my journey of self discovery in sexual matters well beyond anything I ever thought I would do, much less enjoy.

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It was about 11 o'clock on a Saturday night. I'm usually out by this time -- I've got a game with several people on most Saturdays – but this week most of them had other things to do, so I'm in for the night. I'd just gotten out of the shower when I heard someone open the front door and start sneaking in. I don't even have a towel with me; I'm embarrassed to say I was planning on picking one up from the floor in the living room. My wife being out of town had made me a bit sloppy.

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Brooke was home from summer vacation and already had way too much time on her hands as it was, but this summer was different she was home from her sophomore year of college and she was undecidedly single. Brooke was short, and thin. She had large breast, and a nice round ass. At 19, her dark skin, and long hair made her a vixen that she was proud of being. She walked around with very little to cover her voluptuous body, but that didn't matter she loved being looked at. She loved the thought of people getting turned on by looking at her.

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She was a computer geek. Imagine, one of those girls with long, beautiful hair pulled back at the base of her neck, wire-rimmed glasses hiding shimmering green eyes, and long legs that were always masked by dull gray slacks, day in and day out. I watched her, from a distance, silently undressing her with my eyes. I just bet she was a virgin, too.

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I am nervous as I walk up the stairwell. The sound of my shoes scuffing each stair reflects off the dingy once-white walls of the narrow hallway like an insistent warning, telling me to turn around and walk away with every step. Yet I continue, pursuing my chosen course with the same timid determination that has carried me through this day. Ever since I came out to my car and found the note tucked underneath my wiper blade.

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