Your erotic stories

The July afternoon was hot and brilliant, the sun beating down from a cloudless sky as she stood in the doorway, looking out into her backyard. She was alone with her thoughts, which were now just so much kindling for the summer weather that always made her feel lusty. Holding a cold, sweating glass of lemonade, she was on her way out to sit in a lounge chair when he crossed her mind and she felt her legs get a little weak.

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"M...m....Melons..." My stammered exclamation hung there in the laundry room as the young woman and I stared at each other. I could not for the life of me recall her real name. She was, after all, not my son's girlfriend. If anything, she was a hanger-on, an occasional presence drinking beer or occupying a lawn chair while the boys worked on trucks. All the guys just called her "Melons" because of the balloon like breasts she so proudly paraded in front of her.

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She had shoulder length blond-brown hair that the sun had bleached to almost platinum on the top. Her body was slender with curves that were sweeping rather than dramatic and she had just a slight swell of a belly that added to the allure in the same way that a slightly asymmetrical rose seems more real than one that is perfect. Her eyes were the blue-green of deep water and she had a small impish nose that turned up slightly near the tip like one of those Turkish slippers you see harem girls wear in old Hollywood movies.

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I've always liked massage, especially the sensuous kind. Stroke and caress me and I'm like putty. I had found that the massage part of the activities at massage parlors was lots of fun for me, perhaps more so that the so-called happy ending part. The sexual part always seemed so much like a business transaction. It felt like a contest between seeing how fast the provider could make me finish, and how long I could hold out.

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"All right, that's enough!" Jackie was pissed off with Andy trying to get her to agree to anal sex. He had been pushing to try it almost since they married and wouldn't accept that she found the idea both distasteful and scary. Nothing she had said had stopped him from asking again and again. Now she'd come up with an answer which she expected to settle the matter for once and for all! "I'll tell you what I'll do. Do you want to do a trade?"

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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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My friend Marie has always been the kind of girl who caused trouble. You know the type. The one who flirts with sleazy guys she has no intention of bringing home, sometimes for the attention, and sometimes because she's just bored. The girl who wheedles you into doing just one more shot even though you know you've had your limit. The one who tells you that you totally don't look slutty in that dress, and tells you that you should probably shimmy the neckline down a little to show a little bit more cleavage.

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Rob entered the bar apprehensively. It was warm and lively. He had never done anything like this before. What was he thinking? He had a very strong urge to return to his room for a quiet evening of reading. But he promised and a promise is a promise. Although he could just tell ... NO! That would not be right.

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I don't know how it happened. Nothing seemed out of place. The last thing I remember is getting out of the shower and drying my hair. That's when I saw him in my vanity mirror. A figure, clothed in black with a mask over his face, wrapping him arms around my shoulders and face. Then everything went black. I know I should call the police but...I don't know if I want to.

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It was another argument, one that left both of us angry and heated. Sitting on the bed, simmering down from the pent up emotions, I watched as you played on your computer, ignoring the rest of the world. I knew it was a way for you to release stress but I still didn't like it. Watching you play the keys on the keyboard and move the mouse around was always an erotic sight. Always I wondered why you couldn't play me like that.

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