Your erotic stories

My boss, Mr. Adams, calls me a nanny. He's pretty old school about things so I just let it go. I prefer the term, au pair, because it sounds so much more exotic and important. Mrs. Adams is probably the one who has the best grip on reality. She just calls me her "help." I started working for the Adams' to help pay my way through business college. Then about three months into a graphics designer degree, I decided, "Fuck it."

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My world went black as you tied the silk blindfold around my eyes. It wasn't one of those ill fitting cheap ones that you can still see around the bottom edges either, this fit snuggly. I felt the brush of your fingers across my cheek as you gently tucked my hair behind my ear. I can tell you are leaning in close to me, as the rich scent of your cologne has gotten stronger.

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1 Robert Rappaport is not only the landlord of a very nice apartment building but lives in the Penthouse unit where he lived with his parents before their untimely disappearance. He inherited some prime income producing real estate along with it from his parents who vanished on a trip to Thailand a few years back when Robert was only 18. They had left him legally in charge since he was already quite savvy, having learned a great deal from his parents about investing and their business.

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I had been with the company for three years and thinking about leaving until I was transferred to a mid-size Rocky Mountain town. For me it was a dream come true; out of the city, fresh mountain air, and plenty of open road to ride my bike. Being 28 I had been into road bicycles since college and I was a weekend racer. In my new environment and with my new job, that had me out of the office most of the time, I could ride virtually whenever I wanted.

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Daniel and I had been together almost a year. I had moved to Portland for a teaching job and didn't know anyone, but had hooked up with Daniel in the spring of my first year at the high school. He'd come into my classroom to recruit students for summer jobs maintaining trails in the city parks. He was handsome with his brown eyes and golden hair, and he was smart and funny without being cynical and his professional life was devoted to making a difference in kids' lives. I couldn't help but fall for him.

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Jan's thoughts drifted as she reined her horse to the right at the intersection. She did not know where this road led, but exploring her new "neighborhood" was on the goals of her long Saturday evening rides. She had just been transferred to this small West Texas town from Boston, and she had resigned herself to make the most of it. She had enjoyed riding in her early teen years, and since she now found herself living in a part of the country where everyone seemed to own at least one horse.

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She was a bitch, everything about her said that she was a spoilt little princess, and the strange thing was that she got away with it. When she was with her friends, all sitting in the booth laughing at her, to me feeble, jokes she was the life of the party, a good friend to both male and female alike, but I knew different.

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Mary was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to relate. Mary had been my wife for over twenty years, mother of our kids, confidant, no doubt the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was not, I hasten to add, perfect, nor was I, by any means, and we had the usual ups and fortunately few downs. However, one morning, Mary just didn't wake up.

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"Bad news." I looked up from the chart I was perusing. "Never a good thing to say in a medical clinic," I replied. Sally, my administrative manager, grimaced. "Sorry, but true nevertheless. We overscheduled today." I set the chart on the counter I was leaning on and groaned. "Let me guess. My turn?" She nodded in sympathy. It didn't happen often, but occasionally, too many nurses would be scheduled for a shift. We took turns on who went home (without pay), and I knew I was next up.

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I notice on the map that there was a tennis court located in a very secluded area. You agree to go. Now either one of us is any good at tennis but it was exercise that we found to be fun, just hitting the ball back and forth. We weren't there long before two young guys show up wanting to use the court. Their names were Dave and Steve; both were in their early 20's. They asked if we wanted to play doubles with a twist, for every point the losers had to take a shot of whiskey.

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