Your erotic stories

His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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In my world nothing is ever random even when it seems to be, because random in my world leads to chaos, uncontrollable chaos which seemed to follow me despite how cautious I could be at times both personally and professionally.

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"Thin" isn't a word anyone has ever used to describe me. "Beautiful" isn't either. But "sexy"? Well, that's another story. It's funny how long it takes us to come to a realization of who we really are. For me, it took just over 40 years. My whole life I'd struggled with the weight of my own expectations—always wanting to be fifteen or twenty pounds lighter, to have better cheekbones, to have my hair be a better color or my complexion a little better.

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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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