Your erotic stories

Dan had never been to this place before. Fox Lake was not really one of his favorite places to play. But this bar was interesting enough. Situated right on the lake, Wokini's was typical of lake bars the country over. Darkened windows, bright neon lights flashing 'Budweiser,' 'Lite' and 'Southern Comfort.' The smell of stale beer and fried food permeated the air, as did cheap cologne. What brought Dan here were not the rave reviews from Metromix, but rather the fact that Donna Morgan frequented this place as a source of young men to satisfy her nasty debauchery. Dan thought, 'What's good for Mrs. Morgan may be good for other married sluts.'

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I'd seen her around my apartment building several times and she stuck in my mind although I could never quite figure out why. She was an older woman – in her 50s I guessed – with long dark-hair, hints of gray here and there in her curls, and a little plump -- sexy plump, actually. You could see she was very nice looking at one time.

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10. Sometime in late July, the first year. My hair splayed out around me as the trickling flow of the stream lifted and carried it. Soothed by the water, my body warmed in the desert sun. I held Tom's hand and squeezed with love. We had been lying in the creek for nearly half an hour, letting our tired bodies come back to themselves after fucking so so hard.

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It was Friday evening and as per my weekly ritual, I put on a clean pair of jeans and a button down shirt and made my way over to Abel's, the neighborhood dive bar. As I entered I glanced around the room, waved to the usuals and took a seat at the bar next to a girl I've never seen before. I sat down and ordered a Labatt. As the bar tender grabbed a glass and began to fill it, I turned to the new girl and said "I'm Jack and I don't reckon we've met".

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Chapter 1 I walked into her office and closed the door. She had a large black desk with glass on top, a leather chair and two chairs in front. She offered me one as she sat down behind her desk. A name plate, resting on her desk, said Susan Conner Pres. and she had a few other items for decoration.

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Leaning against the doorway, I watch you; standing by a bed bereft of all but the sheets, bending over to retrieve a tossed and forgotten pillow from the floor. The sun revealing the parting of the curtains, your petite figure clad only in my shirt which is twice your size. Legs long and lean, I smile remembering their feel against my lips and hands. Watching you now, I bask in your sensuality, your taste still fresh upon my lips and chin.

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Darcy stared at herself in the mirror with disgust. Despite the one-piece, well-fitting bathing suit she wore, she was still critical of herself. She was still a very attractive woman in her mid-forties, but a little curvier then her petite frame suggested. She stood 5' 3" and had what some would say a little extra baggage around her hips and thighs.

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Every summer holiday, I would be sent off to visit my Aunty Ellen in Bournemouth. This had been our family's tradition ever since I had turned 12, and I think it was as much for my mother's sanity as for my sake. This summer was different: I had just turned 18, and I was going into my last year of private school. What the future held, I had no idea.

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Most secretaries would be fired for wearing a low-cut blouse like hers. Most secretaries wouldn't get away with a tight pencil-skirt and the almost-visible suspenders around her thighs either. Most secretaries, however, aren't married to their bosses – and today is their anniversary. There are flowers on Lana's desk when she comes in, high heels clicking on the oak floor. That gets a smile from her, which isn't always easy this early in the morning; it's still dark outside.

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I called Jennifer back a couple of days after our last tryst and she practically squealed at the sound of my voice. "I'm so glad you called," she said. Grinning, I replied, "me too. How are you doing?" "Great, now. How about you?" "Great too. Hey, can I come by and see you tomorrow afternoon?"

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