Your erotic stories

Carmen was in the den, sitting on the couch with a knee tucked under her chin and her foot propped on the coffee table, applying polish to her toenails. She was wearing a short-waisted, loosely knitted cover-up jacket that revealed dots and dashes of a tiny, neon-orange bikini top. Except for the presence of a thin thong waistband, a profile view of her bare, toned thigh and rounded, firm buttock would give the impression she was nude from the waist down.

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One of my father's crudest friends had a saying that he reserved for men he thought were losers with the women. He would say, "That guy couldn't get laid in a whore house with a pocket full of hundred dollar bills." I never thought about that much; I figured I was doing alright with the ladies until I turned forty. Then it dawned on me, I had never had one that truly cared about me. Through my blue collar hard-working, long-hour days, I had a long string who abused my trust, used me and made me pay too much for the attention I got from them.

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Katherine stumbled out onto the uneven back stoop, audibly groaning under the weight of the heavy-duty trash bag. It was full of crumbled plaster and strips of wooden lathe and swung ponderously, threatening to pull her over with each uncertain step. As her foot slipped on the sloping stone slab she overcompensated and was forced to let the bag drop with a heavy crunch. Catching herself with a sideways grab at the door frame, she slammed backwards into the peeling paint of the old wood siding.

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I've been watching her for days and I don't know why. What was it she had that made my colleague, Fran, employ her? She was average looking at best and her figure was nothing special, not that you could really see that much of it as she kept it covered up at all times. Her fashion sense at times seemed frumpy and old for a younger woman. Her name was Claire and I'd say about twenty years my junior.

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This story is a complete work of fiction; any resemblance to anyone, alive or dead is pure coincidence. All of the characters in this story are 18 years and older. Chapter 1 It was Friday night and my eldest daughter wanted to go out for a disco. Being a 19 year old girl she loved to get out and party. After my divorce, she and her sister had come to live with me and we were very close. During the weekend my younger daughter had gone on holiday to the beach so Caitlin was alone at home with me. Natalie (My second daughter) would be coming back in two or three days time.

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The tray was cold and hard. I could feel my flesh shrinking from the way it felt under me. A shiver stole over me and I felt my nipples growing hard. Of course, being naked as the day I was born could have something to do with the chill. I managed to recline like I was told, on my side, barely able to wait until the tray warmed at my body heat.

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My sister Stacy and I grew up in a small town. We were both home schooled up till the time we started high school. I started high school two years ahead of her. We were best friends and did everything together. Up to the time that I went off to college.

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"What was your most interesting photo shoot, Natasha?" Alex asked. His digital SLR snapped in the silence of the hotel room. I held my pose, wondering how honest I should be. "Well, I did a shoot last year wearing nothing but body paint," I offered, the over-stuffed comforter pressed softly between my legs.

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Francis had friends round watching the football when I got home from university. I wanted them to go away. I didn't know what Francis had told them about me and our relationship but they kept watching me, I could sense them looking at me when I wasn't paying attention to them.

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As the only secretary at the legal firm where I work, my workload was constant and I usually got to finish work on time. That was until a month ago, when a new solicitor joined the company. My workload has increased to the point where I am constantly working back. It is not uncommon for me to finish work well after 5pm. I have even had a few post 10.00pm finishes.

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