Your erotic stories

Her name was Casey Fernandez. She was 34, shoulder-length hair the colour and sheen of a horse-chestnut fresh from its case, deep dark eyes, high cheek bones, a mouth that promised much and (as I discovered) delivered more. We were not exactly living together all the time, which explains how it came about that we had been fucking several times a week for more than three months before she told me about the soirées at Lady T's.

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"You are so going to get lucky this evening." Sarah said. "God I hope so," Kirsty replied as she stood before the full-length mirror and gave a twirl. Her reflection showing an excited young lady who returned her wide cheeky grin. Her newly cut blonde hair was shorter than she would normally wear it but Kirsty was pleased with the effect. Sexier, she thought as she watched her image complete the twirl. The mini skirt was also much shorter than anything she had ever worn, but showed her great legs.

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Chapter One Being Ken and Sandra's maid and sex slave was one of the happiest times of my life. But I came to realize that I should prepare myself for my future. Linda was ecstatic about my decision, assuring me that with a Business Degree she'd be more than happy to give me employment or at least help to get me started on my own.

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On June 22, 1975, Jaws, the first summer blockbuster movie, opened nationwide in 409 theaters. Earlier that day, under a dazzling blue sky filled with great puffy white clouds looking like immense sheep dogs at play, I packed my 1971 Ford Pinto with a sea bag stacked full of uniforms, a duffel bag filled with neatly folded civvies and several cardboard boxes of books.

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Please forgive me if there are any spelling or grammar errors in here – I don't have anyone to correct my work so I have done my bets. Hope you enjoy it as you did my last stories (thanks again for the response to those). I am 30 years old and I am good-looking guy – so I have been told. I am just under 6 foot tall, medium build 70kg – with a nice physique.

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The opportunity to fuck the guy next door had probably been there numerous times over the 7 years we had shared a fence, but it was not until a few days before I moved out that I realised it was now or never. He's a couple of years younger than me and has recently lost quite a bit of weight. He's obviously happy with how he looks and I can't blame him.

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Miranda stepped carefully onto the next lily pad and held her breath with the hope that the green leaf would hold her weight. The water beneath her was black as night and her pale reflection rippled slightly as she moved from one lily pad to the next. Crossing the pond was always a terrifying and exhilarating experience, and Miranda felt her heart race in time to the song of the crickets and the swish of the cattails along the shore.

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He talked about it all the time, in the context of a fantasy. Most of our fantasy talk usually became a reality eventually. That's what I find so exiting about him. We read, shop and fantasize together and then when the opportunity presents itself we instinctively act it out without hesitation. This particular fantasy however required the consent of another individual, my very good friend Becky.

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My name is Lisa; I will be 19 years old at the end of the year and I can boast a 36-24-35 body, if I was into boasting. I am often mistaken for being at least three or four years older than I am; if I was taller it would probably be more. I suppose that when I get older the age factor might be classified as a problem, but for the moment it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I like being young and I like being mistaken as older.

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I'm close to the end of my life now, and as you reach your twilight years mostly all you have left is memories. Especially since I lost my wife of more than 50 years, Katie, I spend most of my time looking back.: my youth in Nebraska; my brief spell as a college football star; the first time I ever saw Katie, and fell in love with her; and, of course, the War.

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