Your erotic stories

I met Brian Carmichael in early July. I remember this because it was almost a week after my fifth birthday. I was in the driveway of our yard, playing with a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer that my Uncle Jake had bought me for my birthday. I looked up and saw a small black dog (a Labrador retriever, I later found out) run across our lawn. The dog wandered over to me, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

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Tucker Williams almost missed his flight. His mind was a thousand miles away as they called for the last passengers to board the flight for San Diego. If it hadn't been for the attentive gate agent, he might have been staring into the distance while his flight rolled down the runway without him. Shocked back into the moment by a gentle tap on his shoulder, he quickly grabbed his backpack and boarded the flight just as they were closing the doors.

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I've always wondered why older guys gravitate toward younger women, whenever they have the chance. Until I met Holly, I didn't realize that I, and the women that I've been with for the past 25 years, have changed, a lot. When you're 18, and you're dating other 18 year olds, you never really realize that bodies change as they age. Heck, the woman that you date and eventually marry, then spend the next few decades with is aging at the same pace that you are. The changes are subtle, but they occur.

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"Thanks for coming in, Jenny. We'll be back in touch with you." And with those words, I figured that was all I'd ever hear about the summer job I'd just interviewed for. I'd spent half the morning getting ready to meet the manager of Dustee's, the little clothing boutique at the mall where I'd put in my application. And in about five minutes, the interview was over!

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Twenty minutes into her first date with the man she contacted on the electronic dating site that she used to get laid when the spirit moved her, Kathryn Udall was afraid she was losing her keen sense of intuition. Kathy was unlike many women in the electronic forum in that she made no bones about her ultimate intentions. She wasn't looking for a "soulmate" or someone to hold hands with on the beach at sunset.

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I've recently begun to nurture an interest in bondage in my girlfriend Tina. Nothing too outrageous you understand; a little light restraint with silk scarves tied to the bed, that sort of thing. I've always gained quite a kick out of seeing a woman restrained and vulnerable. I'm not sure what Freud would make of that.

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It's Friday morning - "Casual Friday" at the office. I'm walking along with a friend when I see her coming toward me in the hall. As usual, I'm curious to see how she will react to me, and as we approach one another, I can tell this will include the usual awkwardness. I'm slightly behind Gina, my friend, who speaks first, a pleasant, "Hi, Deborah!" that draws a smile and a "Hi" in return. But then she notices me, and the reaction is clear.

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It's another day in paradise here in South Carolina. Sunny and hot, a little too humid, but nice for tennis. My girlfriend and I were hitting balls on one of the beautiful clay courts at the resort where we are spending a week together.

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"I was sure you were going to get the manager's job at the bank's new branch over on Castle, Don. Maybe it's because you can't be spared from this branch." "No, Ted, I don't think I'll ever be given a manager's job." "I don't understand." "Let's take our coffees over to the corner table there and I'll see if I can explain it." We'd planned on just picking up coffees to go and to walk back to the bank and have our break in the staff break room. But I wasn't really in the mood to be back there. The announcement of the staffing of the new Castle branch had come an hour ago.

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Jimmy parked his truck in front of the dorm and climbed out. Checking the name on the front of the building, he walked up the sidewalk and pulled the door open. As soon as he stepped into the building, he heard her. "JIMMY!" He turned to the sound and barely had time to register the form of a pretty brunette before she flew into his arms.

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