Your erotic stories

MATH TEACHER, MRS. ROGERS I was adopted by a loving couple and raised in a small town in Northeast Ohio. When I was 18 years old in high school, I developed a strong interest in math mainly because I had a very good teacher, Mrs. Pauline Rogers, who also was an attractive lady: about 5'2" and 120 lb, blonde, firm boobs, and slim legs. When ever I was close to her, I tried to inhale her intoxicating perfume. I worked hard to please her, who I guessed was about 35 years old. In turn, she was glad to have one male student interested in learning math. There were rumors that Mr.

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I hadn't intended to work late that night... I knew you had made plans to go out with a friend of yours. When I arrived home, you were already sitting in the living room, dressed and ready to go. You just smiled at me with a shake of your head. "Kind of figured you'd end up being late. Go take a shower, I'll get something out for you, ok?," You said with a sigh, getting off the couch, though you were still working on your tie. You always had trouble with those...

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Bridgett was a single woman in her forties, tall and average looking; not one to stand out in a crowd, yet pretty in her own way. The chestnut hue of her hair with just a hint of auburn accentuated her mysterious lens-covered green eyes. Being a bit on the thick side she was never model material, but then again she never wanted to be and was happy with her appearance.

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"May I join you?" I looked up from my book, slightly surprised. I had come to the coffee shop-slash-bookstore during my lunch hour for a brief respite from the stress of the office, and I hadn't anticipated being interrupted. Glancing around, I saw that there were plenty of empty seats around.

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"You should grow that moustache again Burt," Bush said to his friend, his voice full of friendly sarcasm, "They make a nice flavor saver when licking cooze." "You would know Bush," Burt joined in with his friend's banter. Burt smiled as he drove their pick up truck, his mind reminiscing to the origin of his nickname. On a fishing trip once, he skipped shaving for a whole week.

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We had been married for only a couple of years, and our sex life had pretty much died off. We were at the point where in a good year we would maybe fuck 3 or 4 times. The rest of the time things were pretty much "dead in Bed". When we did fuck it was fantastic. Most of the other aspects of our relationship were good. We definitely enjoyed our time together, and we missed each other when we were apart. But the lack of sex overshadowed everything.

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It was going to be a long day, as Saturdays usually were. The weather was beautiful outside, which made me all the more bitter for being stuck at work. Library patrons always seemed more demanding on Saturday afternoons and doubly so on nice ones. They'd simply wave and beckon on me to attend to their needs. A dude has a to have a pretty strong stomach to deal with some of these people. The homeless people and the whores are always hooking up in this place.

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The day was beautiful, the sun taking shelter behind the randomly passing clouds, a slight breeze whispering through the leaves of the trees, and the onset of summer providing a sweet afternoon for a country picnic. There, on blankets, sat the five close friends. College was out for the summer, this was a day to enjoy.

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I discovered very early in my life that I am an inveterate voyeur. My most fulfilling, most erotic sexual experiences have always involved watching. Watching movies. Watching television. Watching on the Internet. Even watching in my minds eye as I read stories. Naturally, I simply enjoy watching women as they go about their daily activities.

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What happens in Puerto Rico, stays in Puerto Rico. That was always the understanding for our quarterly business trip to the Island. Unfortunately for me, in the dozen or so times I had traveled to the tropical oasis, nothing worthy of keeping secret had ever occurred. "What should I pack," I debated, as I wrestled with whether or not I could cram enough clothes into a carry-on bag to avoid the incredibly slow baggage claim process in San Juan.

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