Your erotic stories

I'm middle-aged, a former Naval Officer and currently a CPA. I have my own business with no other employees. I was married once, but she had a boyfriend while I was at sea. I kicked her out and have been alone since. I'm not complaining because I have many lady friends if you know what I mean. I own my own home in a nice residential neighborhood and the people there know I'm single. On one side of my house is a nice spinster lady with lots of animals.

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Nadia scowled at the computer screen in front of her. As a writer at a sight for erotic stories, she was constantly trying to better herself and to make sure that she wrote stories that people enjoyed. Negative feedback didn't bother her when there was a reason behind it, even if the person didn't put their name down. What did bother her were anonymous comments that were mean, derogatory and often downright cruel... and several of them were obviously written by the same person.

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She got into the hotel elevator on the 7th floor, wearing nothing a swimsuit with a towel around her waist, at the same time I got out, and I knew I had to follow her. There was no doubt it was the same woman I'd noticed that morning as I'd left for the conference, leaving room 713 just after I'd walked out of 717. She'd had on a perfectly smooth pencil skirt over black hose or stockings, a matching jacket, three-inch heels, and a white blouse--the kind of business attire that drives me to distraction every single time.

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I was busy with my usual Monday morning office routine, sipping coffee, browsing a large stack of phone messages and sorting through my email. Five messages were from Cal Ryder, sleazebag journalist for the local news. What the hell could he want that's so important, I thought. As the mayor of a large midwest city, I was used to calls from the local paper, but it wasn't often that I would get a call from Cal.

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"I cannot stand Cynthia and her more virginal than you attitude," announced Amelia, looking over at where the offender was currently flirting with a couple of boys. "I know what you mean," grumbled Marie. "The way she acts we're all sluts because we're not virgins. Just because we're not virgins doesn't mean we're free and easy. Or that we had any choice in the matter, anyway."

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I've been a cab driver for the best part of ten years now and believe me you certainly get to see some life, even for an overweight 50 year like me. Usually it's some skimpily dressed drunken chick leaving a nightclub that ends up naked on the back seat or takes my cock in her mouth as I drive her home. Then of course you always get your regulars, little yuppy scrubbers that think it's fun to fuck the cabby.

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I sat up in bed and looked around. The only thing I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears and my shaky breath. I rubbed my eyes and threw the covers off my body. I quietly got out of bed and tiptoed to my bedroom door. I cracked it open and peeked down the hallway. There was nothing but darkness and silence.

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"Just because I come from a country town, and just because I speak kind of slow, doesn't mean that I'm stupid." I looked at the two men in the room with me. This was a different Tracy Bowman to the girl that they'd hired a week ago, the one with the good references from her previous employer that told them that she was a dedicated but not highly talented Para-legal, that she was a little shy, and while working well as part of a team, didn't tend to mix socially.

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"Are we nearly there yet? This doesn't look anywhere classy." Clarissa tried to keep the petulance out of her voice. She knew she should be flattered by the stretch-limo and the Dom Perignon, glass number three of which was fizzing its way down her throat, but why the hell were they driving about dingy back-streets?

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2001 was a pretty shitty year for me. It started off with my husband of 5 years leaving me. I can't say it was a complete surprise, I mean I did catch him cheating with my best friend at Christmas. I swear to god I loved him when I married him but...neither one of us had been happy for a long time. He blamed me for getting pregnant. We were just a couple of kids, I was 20 when told my new husband that we had another mouth to feed.

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