Your erotic stories

It was a night for reunions. I hadn't seen Stacy in ten years. Running into her at the grocery store had been such a pleasant shock, that I couldn't stop thinking about her the entire time I was getting ready to go out. I had already told my husband, Sam, all about her. In my stories of our times together, I had described her as the closest person to my fantasy woman I had ever met. She still was.

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"Slow tonight, huh?" The "mixologist" glanced up at me through her blonde bangs as she poured my drink. They weren't allowed to be called bartenders... something to do with not having a liquor license, not wanting to attract the attention of the authorities to a club like this.

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I was Acting Head Copy Chief in a big ad agency. Acting, because I was not a full time employee, but a freelancer, as they call self-employed contractors in the ad business. Things were booming and the agency was stretched. With the typical lack of loyalty and 'sell yourself to the highest bidder' attitude of that crazy business, job jumping was rife and good employees were on a merry-go-round of moving from agency to agency. Hence the agency's need for an 'Acting Head Copy Chief.'

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"I think he's signaling to you, sugar." I'd stopped to talk to the two guys who regularly positioned themselves at the corner of 4th Street Northwest in Albuquerque and the alley in which I temporarily resided in a cardboard carton. I hadn't been there long following a relocation from Las Vegas and, although I'd found some work as a gofer on a high-rise construction project downtown, I didn't have near enough funds yet to rent a room—or even to have three squares a day.

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This is my first story. I have plenty more experiences to relate if you want more!! I can't really remember quite how I got interested in women's panties, but for as long as I can remember, I have always taken the opportunity to have a sly look through various dirty laundry baskets and hope amongst hope that somewhere inside would be my treasure trove - a sexy, slinky pair of panties with the unmistakeable aroma and tell tale signs that they had been worn pretty recently.

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When Randall came home, Cassie was waiting to take his coat. Dressed in her school uniform, as usual; the skirt so short that you could see the bottom most curve of her ass and her white cotton shirt over a white cotton tank, tucked into her green plaid skirt. Lotus was crossing the floor, with a scotch in her hands. As she moved the ice tinkled against the glass, that was nothing compared to the slight sway of her breasts, he thought as he loosened his tie with a smile.

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My alarm. I slapped the thing, sent it flying. Later, I'd be amazed the thing still worked. I hate alarm clocks. I sat up on the side of my bed and adjusted my nightie. One of my nipples was peeking out. Five years ago, I'd have played with it, teased it for its indiscretion. Hell, five years ago, I probably wouldn't have worn the nightie. And I still would have played with it.

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Gordon Fields sipped his Scotch and leaned back in his comfortable chair. Despite his occupation, he wasn't a "tough guy" or a "man of the streets". He had grown up in a nice home and he enjoyed the finer things in life. Now that he was off for a while, he had time to enjoy those things. He could indulge in good food and a fine Cuban cigar. He could have a drink or two and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman without the concern of how it would affect his performance.

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He was going to kill me. Not merely an idle thought, but quite possibly a fact considering what I was about to do. I was treading not only the very distinct line of our abstract relationship this afternoon, but perhaps straddling the damn thing, erasing the permanent marker with the lacy tops of Chinese silk stockings, fraying the edges on the constitution of our very own sexual etiquette.

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Ann opened the drape and looked outside and everything was white. It took her back to her childhood when she eagerly anticipated the first snowfall. Oh, how she loved sledding, building snowmen, and snowball fights. Now the 37 year old housewife saw the snow as a nuisance; snow was something that made it difficult to drive and gave you a backache when you had to shovel it.

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