Your erotic stories

My name is Fred and I'm a disgusting bastard. At least that was what my last girl friend called me as she threw me out of her house. I guess she's right but I can't help it, for you see I happen to think that a lady's armpit is about the sexiest part of her body. Don't ask me why because I just don't know and although I try to hide my secret it always comes out one way or the other.

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It was a slow night at Iron Works Gym. Outside the rain pounded the parking lot and washed away the remnants of what had been another routine day. Another routine day in a long, line of routine days. There were only a few guys working out that night and we were all scattered into our own workout zones. The clanking of plates drowned out the music the gym played but no one seemed to care. Most of the guys in the gym that night were listening to their own tunes on their Ipods and in 'the zone.'

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I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door. I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door. "Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck. "Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.

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"Hey Major Christen." I looked up as I heard my name, and tried not to grin as I saw the two girls waving at me. I was sitting in the BX food court eating an ice cream cone on my lunch break, just relaxing, and I waved back to them. They walked over and I took the time to look at the two of them.

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I love getting out of the office at lunchtime. It gives me an opportunity to clear my head, and listen to either Jim Rome or Colin Cowerd on sports talk radio, as I drive to one of the local eateries. Since I'm trying to watch my waist, along with my budget, I usually hit the local Subway at least once a week. It's a fairly popular spot, so there's usually a line, but they do their best to keep it moving along.

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It was a cold, snowy day, and I was sitting at home, alone and bored. My mom had the kids for the day because I was supposed to work, but the office called and said they didn't need me. I puttered around, trying to keep myself busy, but the boredom quickly returned. The thing was, I couldn't stop thinking about her -- about the girl I met last night.

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My friend Jeff and I grew up on the same block. We did all the things teenage boys do. Our parents were good friends and once a week or so they got together to play cards and have a few drinks. We usually hung out at whatever house our parents weren't at.

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As the car idles in front of the school, in line with all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, I take out my phone and call you. "Hi, baby," you say, the tension in your voice coming through the line clearly. "Do you need something?" "I was just about to pick up the kids and thought I'd see how your day is going and if you wanted something special for dinner. Is Michaels still breathing down your neck?"

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Once there was a small valley, nestled deep within the craggy mountains, and within it was a small village of farmers. For years they and their fields had received water bountifully from a large spring that gushed from beneath a granite outcrop. For three years now, however, the flow lessened and lessened until there was barely enough to sustain their lives.

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Even with the sun low in the evening sky, it was stifling hot. Jeff wondered why his Mom insisted on jogging in weather like this. The few times he had asked, her answer was always the same: "Because I don't want to look old." At eighteen, Jeff somewhat understood. Still, why put yourself through that, he thought to himself. Was it that important to a thirty eight year old woman to look ten years younger?

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