Your erotic stories

Marie boarded the plane to Florida sighing as she sat down in her seat. "Finally, I'm free to do as please," she quietly muttered to herself. "Marie, did you say something?" Nan her traveling companion asked. "No...well, yes...I was just thinking how amazing it is finally to get to go somewhere without having someone to answer to for my actions," Marie said.

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"Wow, Michael!" My secretary said, "You wouldn't believe who just came in to audition for the part!" "A knock-out, huh?" I said, as I deposited my newly printed photos into my briefcase. "That," Julie said, "is an understatement! This lady is hot!" Julie had been my secretary for over five years and was a knock-out herself. Her long blonde hair cascaded downward, hiding her delectable shoulders.

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I have to start with, I never intended for it to go that far. Okay, so, now that that is out of the way, here goes. I'm a fairly young French teacher in a rural high school. I spent my first couple of years out of college substitute teaching in the same district I teach in now, so by the time the school superintendent decided it would be a good idea to hire me, I had already made connections with faculty, staff, and the students at the school. This year was my first year having my own classroom.

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I can't remember a time in my life when he wasn't around. Patrick and I were born two days and two plantations apart. Our families were good friends and even better business partners. From the moment we were born, they dreamed of uniting their plantations just outside of Savannah, Georgia and producing another generation of devout Catholics. 1100 acres and 12 children total. Yes, it seemed Patrick and I were destined to be together.

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I finished feeding the cat and sank down onto the kitchen chair with a deep sigh. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, and tried to unwind, but I was still too keyed up. So I poured myself a glass of cheap Bordeaux, walked into the living room, put a blues CD into the stereo and sank onto the sofa. As days went, mine had been a bitch. Late to get up, late to start, and it had just snowballed from there.

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I was driving back from the airport after seeing off my husband, who was off on tour for 10 days. As I drove through very light morning traffic, I was thinking of the unusual happenings of last few days. * I am a housewife, happily (?) married for 18 years and mother of a 16 year old daughter. At 39, I still have a lot of sexual urge, though my husband, who is otherwise loving & caring, is not much bothered about it.

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Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and excitement during that short walk on the beautiful, warm spring morning. She looked forward to the adventure that lay before her with excitement. The weather matched her mood perfectly. The dark months of winter were behind her and the morning sunshine warmed her pretty face. Angel felt her spirits lifted with the blossoming beauty of the day, which caused a surge of joy at just being alive to swell her heart in her chest.

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I had driven 25 of the 50 kilometres of my way home from the Christmas Eve celebrations I had at my girlfriend's home. I decided to call in on old Miss Tomlinson, my old retired schoolteacher, she and I finished school the same year; I at 16 and she at 60. That was 12 years ago. Why I decided to call in on her I have no idea still. Sure I saw her in her garden and waved as I passed her house on many occasions, but never once stopped.

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I took the job as a maid at the golf resort because, one, I figured I'd be left alone a lot of the time while I cleaned, and two, because what else was I going to do after high school? Work a bar, work a cash register at the feed store, either one I'd have to deal with assholes who poked fun at me for being a fat girl. I didn't consider myself fat, just sturdy. It wasn't because I ate potato chips and candy bars all day, it was just genetics that made me as strong as an ox.

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Show horses are sports cars. They're fast, smooth, sleek, and attract like kind in owners, trainers, and dealers. As the most popular of these steeds hail from the strong sons and daughters of a Central and South-American breed, most of these trainers, owners, and human accomplices are fine, muscular, dark-skinned Latino men who know how to move, in the saddle, on the dance floor, and even in the sheets.

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