Your erotic stories

Finals were over and it was time to drive home for winter recess. I did not have any plans for the break besides relaxing, hanging out with my family, working at a local café, and missing sex. My boyfriend, Al, was also going to his hometown for the break, about 400 miles away, and we had not planned to visit each other. This meant I wouldn't get laid for another four weeks! Our relationship was stale; sex was all he was good for.

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I had my eye on her from the moment she moved into the apartment building down from mine. She had turned around and her bubble butt stuck out as she leaned over in her car to retrieve a box from her SUV. From my window, I figured out her schedule and the people who visited her. I rumbled through the trash she had dropped off at the dumpster and found a lot of interesting information, like her full name was Anne Walsh, where she worked, and how much she got paid.

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Honey, you really need to blow off some steam." Those words, coming from my wife of three months, are seared into my memory, no less so than if she would have branded me. Like any watershed moment in a person's life memories come fast and easy, some good, some not so good and some are a combination. The words came fifteen years ago today, while I was still a young attorney fresh out of law school and climbing my way up the corporate ladder.

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I remember well the night that I first met Carrie - It was a Friday night and I was on a business trip at a hotel. She was my waitress, and apart from being very friendly she was absolutely gorgeous. She has very dark hair, a beautiful delicate face with sharp inquisitive eyes that contrast her softer features. There was nothing electrical or even out of the ordinary, however - she simply brought me my coffee and a piece of cheesecake, smiling.

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The first time I met Mr. Steinberg, I was totally impressed with the way he carried himself. He looked pretty old to me, maybe in his 70's, maybe even older, but I could tell from the way he dressed and spoke and especially with his young physique, that he exuded confidence and self assurance. I don't think he was a body builder by any means, but dressed in casual attire, he stood straight and proud and when he moved around, his agility belied his age, however old he really was. 

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She rolled lazily to her back, her hair falling gently across her forehead. Her toes gently brushed against the smoothness of the sheets as she relished the warmth and comfort of her bed. She suddenly felt the blood rush to her face as the memories of the previous night returned. It had started like so many other of "his" little adventures.

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September 2003 "Ya got ten bucks Mister?" she asked as she darted in front of me, one of a small group of black clad, pierced and tattooed punkers who'd mysteriously appeared in the neighborhood just days earlier. "Ten bucks? What happened to the fifty cents for squeegeeing my windshield?" I asked with a grin. "Fifty-cents! A rich, hip Miami guy like you," she teased, jiving me as she danced backward as I continued walking.

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The first thing I know in consciousness is the tickling of your chest hairs on my nose as I breath in and out. Instinctively, I reach up to rub my nose, inadvertantly flicking your nipple as I do. "Hmmmm" you breath out, shifting slightly to wrap your arm around my shoulders. You are so warm that I snuggle closer, running my hand over your chest to find your other nipple, still soft in relaxation. A slight brush of my hand brings it to attention to match it's counterpart.

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Tiredly, I walked up the driveway from my car. It had been a long day and I was looking forward to a relaxed evening and a cold beer or two. I dumped my briefcase and suit jacket in the foyer and shouted, "Honey, I'm home. Where are you?" "In the bathroom," she answered. I walked down the passage and pushed the bathroom door open. Zoë was seated on the toilet, her flimsy g-string around her slim ankles and her sundress hiked up over her wide hips. She looked up at me with an annoyed look in her grey eyes.

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My father-in-law, Robert, is more than just my wife's father. We have much in common. We both like to read and watch sports. We both like working with our hands. He likes to fish more than I do, but it's another thing that we do together. We help each other with our yard work and home maintenance. We can talk to each other. He's my friend and a buddy.

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