Your erotic stories

The thumping bass sound announced the approach of Miguel's car long before Damon saw it come around the corner and pull up to the side of the basketball court. Damon took one last shot, banking the ball off the backboard and through the hoop before jogging over to the high chain link fence surrounding the court where Miguel's car sat on the other side. The passengers side window of Miguel's Camry slid down and Luke leaned out.

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"Just take it," my best friend whispered in my ear before switching aisles. Like a pro, she pocketed a pack of gummy bears to go with a bag of chips. It stunned me that she could be so apathetic about the whole thing. Stealing? I'd never stolen anything in my life -- not even first base! Yet with nervous hands, I picked up a little baggie of Swedish fish, and looked towards the register. The man there was sitting with his feet up on the counter and his head down, staring into a home and gardening magazine.

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"There is, of course, the tale of the man who built a horse of ebony that flew through the air with its rider—" "We've heard that one already. What about the tale of the three Sufi Qalandars who were each the sons of kings and also each blind in one eye?" "That one was as old as a dried date when my father was a boy. If you want to hear a truly wondrous story, listen to me recount the tale of the rich man who bought a mermaid as his concubine only to discover—"

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I can never remember being alone. Even when by myself, there was this feeling that I was there beside myself. Such is the feeling some identical twins have. My name is Alan, a few minutes older than my brother Brad. We have shared everything in our 20 years. Actually, counting the time we shared the same amniotic sac it's been more than 20 years.

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I've often asked myself how it is that I came to be so addicted to the worship of women's legs. I've never adequately been able to explain it even to myself. I will say that ever since I was a young boy, the sight of a firm pair of legs, preferably in a skirt, is enough to get my juices flowing, my cock hard, and my mind racing.

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Chapter 1 -"No!" My shriek got my friends' and some strangers' attention in the waterpark. "What's up?" Cody asked with scrunched up brows. He looks like a cute little puppy with that concerned face. That along with his boy-next-door look always got attention from the women. "I can't find my bikini anywhere!" I half-sob, half-shriek with a frown on my face. "This is all your fault."

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** All characters are 18+ ** I can't forget the day when I saw him for the first time. He was a little boy with a cute smile, brunette hair and very small, yet beautiful eyes. His little hand held my finger in a firm grip. Today, tears formed in Aunt Celina's eyes when nurse handed over the little boy to her. She gave a little kiss on his forehead and looked in his beautiful eyes; she was so happy and we were happy for her.

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'Where's my mom?' Jennie asked Mike. Mike opened his eyes groggily and rolled over to see who had disturbed him. He looked in the general direction he'd heard the voice from and tried hard to focus. It was no good. He blinked once and tried again; still no good. With an effort he sat up in bed and put his hands to his face. He vigorously rubbed his hands over his eyes and then blinked a couple of more times. He looked to the side of the bed once more and then saw Jennie.

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Patrice Mueller couldn't suppress a resigned sigh as she looked around the living room. It wasn't that it was dirty; it was that it looked fine. The whole house looked fine: a tastefully appointed exemplar of a white bread middle class dwelling. It was tidy, warm and cozy without a hint of ostentation.

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"If this does not solve your issue Patrick. I swear to God I am going to fire you as soon as you get back." "Yes, sir." Patrick muttered as he hung up the phone. Patrick was sitting in some therapist's waiting room. He looked around at the cream-colored walls as he debated reading Newsweek. He decided against it and his mind wandered.

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