Your erotic stories

My wife, Sue and I have always enjoyed the beach and all that it has to offer. We have enjoyed many days just frolicking in the surf with nothing on except our smiles and soaking up the suns rays. Early on in our marriage we made an investment that we have enjoyed for many years, a fabulous beach cottage. We shared it with our children, who have all moved away and it has been a safe haven for each of us during some of those trying years of our marriage.

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It was one of those spring mornings where the air is cool and clean, and the sun is coming up and getting warm and busy. It feels like a beach day! Taking the top down on the car, I head out driving along Pacific Coast Highway, loving the sun lightly torching my skin, making me feel free and sexy. Turning up the stereo a bit louder as Pink Floyd comes on and brings back some memories of high school days and some awesome sexy nights, learning about love.

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Her mind still swimming from the painkillers the hospital had given her for her leg, Bri called the house. She wasn’t sure how she’d explain her stupidity to Ken. He was surely going to chastise her for being so absentminded. The phone just rang and rang. She heard the answering machine pick up, and just yelled for him. When no one picked up she just said, “Hey baby, I’m at the Emergency room. I need a ride home, if your home?”

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"I hate to say it but I think I'm done for the night." I sat back against the leather seat in the booth we were occupying and gazed out at the crowd packed into the club. Shouts and laughter competed with the bass pumping from the speakers, and people were downing shots at the bar.

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Ted couldn't believe his luck. He was beginning to think he had some Irish blood in him or something. He hadn't had sex in weeks, since breaking up with Tabitha. Then, out of the blue, her best friend Trish had bumped into him in the grocery store. He'd been his usual jovial self. Sure, maybe he flirted a bit with her. But who wouldn't? Trish was a hottie!

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I was cursed. Not by the evil witch of the mountains or some wizard living in a cave somewhere. I was cursed by my own parents. I am their first child. They named me after my mother's favorite cousin. What they either didn't know or didn't care about was that he hated his name.

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Sitting at the computer in my office, the problem wasn't solving itself. I needed a break. I ran my fingers through my hair, leaned back, stretched my arms, moaned audibly and then decided to take a walk. I pushed my chair back from my desk, stood up and headed for the door.

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A torrent was falling straight down in lazy sheets. It was the heart of rainy season, and Mother Nature showed truth in advertising. I would have just stopped right there on the trail to wait it out had it not been for the fact that it would have resulted in being stuck on an unmapped "road" -to use that term loosely- after sundown. Driving in the dark through the jungle was a good way to get stuck in the mud or, worse still, a flash flood.

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I was on a quiet tropical island, resting up after a week of a difficult conference. My company always arranged these weeks of work in the best places – this was no exception. Sun, warm crystal clear sea and fish galore on the coral reef – it was a real paradise. I'd gone away from my colleagues, who'd preferred to stay in the busy capital and enjoy the high life – I needed to relax.

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When I arrived at the tavern, I was trying not to look around too much. In my visualization it was them that approached me, strangers with familiar faces. I tried to appear confident and comfortable, but in all honesty I was neither of those. Sitting casually on a red faux leather stool at the bar, I ordered a Vodka and Soda and drew a deep breath. My lungs registered the dank sticky alcoholic air that I inhaled, the kind of air you can only breathe in a place like this.

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