Your erotic stories

I dashed for the phone, hoping to answer it before the voicemail picked up. "Hello," I said, breathing hard. "Ken, it's Sam Clemens." No, not that Sam Clemens. Sam is Samantha Clemens. She and her husband Dave live about two miles from me on Huckleberry Hill Road. We have the only houses for miles, so we've become pretty good neighbors. Dave is a realtor in town. He has done very well financially selling commercial real estate, and it shows.

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CHAPTER 1 Sun shafts through the treetops infiltrated early morning mist over the river as Loretta Oblinger sat in the sales office, hands warmed by a hot mug of coffee resting against her breasts. Smiling faintly, she contemplated the scene and thought about the wedding she'd attend that afternoon, alone, although the invitation stated 'and partner'.

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Free. Marie sat there numb, not knowing what to say, do, or think. Her attorney had just informed her that her marriage was over, her life as she knew it would cease to exist, and that she was a free woman at last. Her very recently ex-husband had agreed to all the stipulations (which were very few), and signed the papers terminating their 15-year marriage. All Marie was asking for was "out." Their home that had been lovingly built by the two of them had been auctioned off in a foreclosure sale.

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There are many moments in life that one can see as stunning; I am witnessing such a moment. My home is in the mountains of Pennsylvania, when the snow falls across the landscape, especially around the holidays it reminds me that God,in his infinite wisdom, allows us the time to reflect and remember the beauty in our lives. It has been some time since I've written of my deliciously decadent liaisons. As you know, I am a lover of older men.

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The summer of 1970 was the time, and the place was Holland Patent in rural central New York State. Arthur Connors was a recently retired man of 65 with a lot of time on his hands, and after his wife of 36 years had passed away a couple of years ago, that time seemed to pass more slowly. Deciding to take up gardening, Art cleared out the area near the fence out back that divided his property from the Miller's spread next door, and began planting tomatoes.

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Elizabeth sighed. People had told her the first year after the divorce would be difficult, especially the holidays. But she hadn't thought to include Valentine's Day. It wasn't as if Geoff had actually sent her anything the last 3 years of their 6-year marriage…not even a card. Come to think of it, they hadn't really celebrated Valentine's Day at all…no dinner, no 'hey, it's a holiday' sex. Now she was faced with spending the evening with quilting bee or going to a restaurant in Chicago's Loop with the 'Newly Single' group her sisters' had signed her up for.

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Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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The funny thing about this whole situation was that I had joked about it with my roommates and my girlfriend before it happened. We had all had a good laugh about it, the situation being so absurd and all. I suppose I should give you some background on us before I get into the story. I live in a small three bedroom in law apartment in San Francisco with two of my closest friends, Patrick and Jay.

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When I was 18 my family lived in the English Midlands. My parents both worked for a pharmaceutical firm and they were working at its English subsidiary. We lived in a small village about 20 miles outside of Birmingham. Because both my parents worked they could afford to send me to a public school—which in England means a private school. The school was in the city, and I would ride in with parents every morning and ride back home again every evening.

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I'm Anna, a small-town-librarian, who loves to fly, but I wasn't always so brave about it. In fact, not too long ago, I began all of my flights with a death-grip on the armrests, praying my head off. This irrational fear led to a bit of fun with George, and several months later...a LOT of fun with Sean. It all started, one quiet afternoon at the library, which is when I usually do a little personal research on the Internet.

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