Your erotic stories

She had shoulder length blond-brown hair that the sun had bleached to almost platinum on the top. Her body was slender with curves that were sweeping rather than dramatic and she had just a slight swell of a belly that added to the allure in the same way that a slightly asymmetrical rose seems more real than one that is perfect. Her eyes were the blue-green of deep water and she had a small impish nose that turned up slightly near the tip like one of those Turkish slippers you see harem girls wear in old Hollywood movies.

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My fortieth birthday had just gone by the previous week, with quite a fanfare of celebration. The years just seemed to have flown by. I sat back at my desk in the basement and reminisced the last twenty years. Moreover, perhaps puzzling what changes I should have made, if any at all. Or would all that had gone on this last month be an indication of the next decade. My teenage life was uneventful, I had a few girlfriends but nothing much happened until I was nineteen, then Jane appeared on the scene.

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This is another Chapter of Carol's Series. I'm an "amateur" writer and, in addition, English is not my mother tongue. To write a single Chapter requires a big effort, from me: long time and language's difficulties. Therefore, let me ask, please, to judge my writing on the basis of its "contents" (if you like it or not) and not from an aesthetic or "formal" point of view.

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Ellie Barton looked up over the top of the latest copy of Birds and Blooms as the child passed by her patio for what had to be the third time this morning, and Ellie chuckled when she saw the kid's reaction to being caught looking in her direction.

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May 14th, 1969 was a day that Kenny Holmes would never forget, and not because it happened to be his 18th birthday either. It was a day that he had been looking forward to for quite some time, and the anticipation was making his heart race as the bus neared the end of the route. Kenny got off the bus a block before his destination because he didn't want to bus driver to know where he was going.

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As I closed my eyes, my hand gripped the pole and I swayed to the beat. It was Metallica, Nothing Else Matters. Slow, heavy, wonderful music. I moaned slightly and lifted my left leg off the floor in my high heels. My heaving chest pulsed as the wetness came to my pussy. Dancing, I felt more alive than at any moment on earth. The eyes upon my body made me totally absorbed in my own sexual high.

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Many wonder about the obsession of anal sex and when viewed from a purely superficial standpoint, I guess I could see why one questions the attraction to the act. Clearly, other sexual acts are acceptable outlets for our sexuality and if you want to get kinky there are sex toys, oral sex and positions to explore, right? Why all the curiosity about anal?

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We've all seem them; an object of nostalgia and whimsy. It is a jewelry box, a place to keep secret and personal things, sitting on the vanity table of a particular kind of woman. There is the lingering hint of some perfume, a subtle reminder of the elegance of it's owner. It is the color of ivory, picked out in silver or perhaps gold, the edges frilled or otherwise decorated to soften the lines.

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I am the owner of a small manufacturing business which will remain nameless for reasons that will become obvious. For the same reasons, my name can't be revealed. Arriving in my office on a Tuesday morning, I was faced with the usual issues to deal with, none of them enjoyable. Yesterday we had three people call in with the "Monday Flu," and I have to meet with each of them to let them know this is unacceptable. We only have 40 employees, and we need to be able to count on everyone showing up for work.

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It's a bit of a librarian look, the way I wear my hair at work. All coiled up on my head, and stuck through with several of those Japanese-looking hair spikes. Not a strand is out of place, and the hair is wound and wrapped tightly into a bun roughly the size of one of those Kaiser rolls the bun it makes is easily the size of one of those Kaiser rolls.

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