Your erotic stories

I'd had a couple of busy weeks at work and had just returned from a weekend getaway with my family. I'd looked with a bit of envy at my brother and his little family and got annoyed with my parents who'd made none too subtle comments on my single status at 34. To me, the more embarrassing fact was that I'd not even been out on a date for years. How sad was that?

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My wife, Beth and her mother, Ruth, were flying to Colorado today to visit Beth’s brother. They were downstairs packing. We had to leave in about twenty minutes for the airport. After dropping them off I had planned to go to a party our firm was throwing for some clients. I was in my home office upstairs answering email when Ruth appeared in the doorway. I said, “Ready to go?”

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When I woke up, Audrey was gone. For a split second, I thought that it all might have been a dream and my heart sank. But I soon realized that I was lying in Audrey's bed and there was still the heavy aroma of sex hanging in the air. Throwing the covers off me and sitting up on the side of Audrey's bed, I surveyed my sticky naked body to find that I had a few fresh bite marks, a couple of sweet hickeys and several fingernails scratches all over me.

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Lucy Wright was forty two and divorced with two grown sons. Both sons were in college but that did not mean much as the college was just across town. John the oldest was a senior and due to graduate in the fall. He had an apartment near campus, which he shared with his girlfriend. Joe the youngest was a sophomore and lived at home most of the time.

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I don't know when he's coming home or if he'll be alone, but I wait. Won't be long till the bars close. But I swear to myself I won't wait long. Not more than a half hour. It'll take him at least that long to get home. No longer though. Finally he walks up to the door alone, his breath hanging in a cloud on the cold air. For a minute he doesn't see me and I just look at him - what a cocky way he moves. Even when there's nobody watching he walks like he owns the world. And maybe he fucking does.

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I'm having an affair. Like many in this position I didn't plan it. I'm in my mid thirties, happy with a family and my life but I guess something must have been missing otherwise I wouldn't be here. It started because of the bad weather we'd been having. Weeks of rain with little respite had made our laundry pile grow and grow.

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Now, it's not what you might think; I'm not talking about that annoying Microsoft Office pop-up. No, I'm talking about the London Clippy, more properly known as a bus conductress. This was long before the Oyster Card method of payment that you wand as you board a bus, through concertina folding doors. Back then there was no door, just an open platform at the back left hand side (e.g. the side facing the pavement). A driver would pull up almost one bus length beyond the painted sign that was attached to a post.

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She stood in front of the mirror, slowly taking in what she saw reflected. Most of her day had been spent alone, so that she might have ample time to prepare. Her dark eyes flickered as they moved over her image, checking carefully, looking for even the smallest flaw. The short sundress she wore appeared white at first glance, but was actually a pale lilac. It had an embroidered bodice and hem, and spaghetti straps that left her shoulders exposed.

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We stood there together, about to go into the bar. He looked me right in the eyes and stared for a minute. "You sure you're ready to do this?" I could see the look of concern wash over his face. "Baby," I said, grabbing both of his hands. "This was my idea, remember. You are the one who looks worried. Are you OK with this?" He smiled so big, I thought his face would freeze like that.

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Tuesday morning I took special care in getting ready for work; knowing it was Jacks usual day to frequent the library. I'd spent the night (like most others that week) dreaming of Jack's sweet seduction and our "date" last week. Scanning the conservative work clothes in my closet I finally settled on the form-fitting black skirt and the soft red sweater. I was so nervous; it took me several tries just to get the seams straight on the backs of my stockings. The morning seemed to take forever to pass and after lunch I'd stood at my office window, lost in fantasies of Jack.

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