Your erotic stories

Jan didn't know Carol very well. Of course she had seen Carol around the neighborhood some, and they ran into each other at the grocery sometimes. But they really weren't friends, just acquaintances. Jan had heard things about Carol and her husband Rob. One of the neighborhood rumors was that the couple went to some pretty wild parties, but Jan wasn't sure she believed it. As far as she knew they were just another middle-aged couple.

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When the Black Death swept through her village in central Germany, Brigette didn't really understand the changes it would bring to her life. Indeed, no one was prepared for the chaos that arose from nearly half the village not being able to work – and then beginning to die. Suddenly it seemed that everyone was sick and everyone huddled in their homes, afraid of human contact. But it came home to her when her mother and older brother came down with it, and then both her younger sisters the next day.

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"Alright Dad, you've heard about Jayson and me, now I want to hear about you and that couple in San Diego. I think it's only fair." You're, right, it's my turn. This goes back, oh, about forty-five years; I was in the navy and as I said stationed in San Diego. I wasn't married to your mother yet, but I was engaged to her. She was living back in Texas and we planned to get married when I got out of the service.

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"I'm sorry, Deena," her lawyer was saying. "You can't expect to stay in business the way you're spending money. My god, girl! You made almost $300,000 last year, and you're $22,000 in the hole, now!" He shook his head. "I'm glad you and my wife aren't friends," he muttered, walking away. "Oh, and you have to be out of the office by next Thursday," he added, over his shoulder.

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Hi, my name is Amy; I am a happily married woman, with a fully grown daughter. But lately with me and my husband both turning 60 years old, I feel unfulfilled; my husband tells me he is just too old for sex and that we are old enough to give it up. But I couldn't, if he wants to stop, it is his choice, and I will not force him, so to get what I needed I just masturbated when I felt like it, which was almost every night.

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In those days, I didn't wear underwear. I had long hair down to the small of my back. I was in good shape, lean and muscular, a bike rider with thick legs and a laid-back demeanor. You probably know the type. So a certain kind of woman often responded to me. A certain kind of man, too, although I'd never given that a thought. For my part, here's what I liked in a woman: Natural, sensual. smart. Sexual intellectuals. Open and daring, although even if they weren't, I usually got them there pretty quick.

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Bodies entwined... skin sliding against skin... slick with sweat... legs tangling together... hands exploring... lips tasting... moans of pleasure... a whispered voice... "... Madison... " The room was in near darkness, only the glow from the hearth cast shadows on the wall. Through the sheer drapes of the bed she could see two bodies, locked together in passionate embrace, their movements sensual and rhythmic.

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I arrived at my Alaskan destination after four different flights, including one float plane. It was late in the evening but the sun wasn't cooperating; the natural lighting made it seem about 5pm. I was due to start a new seasonal job the following day. My first impression of my new "home" was positive: the air was brisk and clean, the snow looked pristine, and three absolute hunks came out of the bunkhouse to help me with my luggage!

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When I write my stories, I am concerned with one an only one thing - trying to create a mood of tenderness and longing. Sometimes I probably over do it. And I end up getting into such heightened state, I get really worked-up - and I write most of the really "haunted" love stuff when I am right on the edge. When I re-read my stories, I can tell that parts were created in that shaky mind space.

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The woman sat in the semi darkness of the living room. She softly replaced the phone in the cradle, and sighed. Her husband was on the road. He was a long haul trucker, who was on another long haul. She made her way down the hallway, which was lit by a small night light in case the kids had to get up in the night. She peered into the first room, and saw the small figure of a young boy snuggled down in his blankets.

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