Your erotic stories

I am an engineer, an entrepreneur and a businessman with considerable experience. By the tail end of the dot.com frenzy, I learned enough about business during that heady time to know that as soon as a small company is profitable, those profits turn into growth and growth turns into interest from large companies wanting to break into certain markets. That interest means they want to buy. The margins for small businesses aren't large in most cases, so people make real money by selling the company before it gets too large.

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After a nice steamy shower, my companion of 8 years and I were feeling very randy after a long day on the hot beach. We are both in our early thirties and very sexual creatures. We have done most everything as far as sex goes with the exception of anal sex. This seemed to be the only elusive act that had evaded our repertoire, and that being due to her "fear" of the act.

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Henry 'Rocky' King lived two doors down from me. We had 'bumped' into one another at least three times a day for a year, coming and going mostly from our jobs. We had never actually had more than a casual conversation as we passed each other in the hall or shared a ride in the elevator. Henry, or Rocky as he preferred, was older than me by about 15 years but was in better shape than most guys my age.

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Sharon stood out the front of the large sandstone Rose Bay home and slowly unfolded the piece of paper in her hand. She checked the number against those written on the piece of paper that had been handed to her three weeks earlier. With a wave over her shoulder the taxi driver pulled away, leaving her alone to begin the second stage of her burgeoning sexual development.

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The tedium finally broke at a quarter to seven, late that Friday night. We had been on the contract for almost two months, making sure that the details were all ironed out and then ironed out again once the two parties took turns changing their minds again and again. I should have been happy about the billable hours, and the generous amount of money those hours constituted, but these are the proceeds that contract lawyers commonly refer to as blood money.

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'What was I thinking?' Louise thought holding up the red baby doll before her. The idea was a month old, a way of re-kindling her husband's passions for her, of showing her husband that Louise Chester was still a woman at fifty and a sexy one at that. Boudoir photographs, erotic yes, dirty surely not. They had been her best friend Carols idea. Louise had spent the afternoon bitching and moaning about her husband Mike with Carol throwing in her own thoughts before she finally gave her the idea.

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Paul's parents were out of town and his sister, Kim, had decided to have a few friends sleep over. He got along reasonably well with both his sister and her friends, but he certainly didn't feel like hanging around the house while they watched chick flicks and painted their nails, so he went out with a few of his friends.

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Lucy Wright was forty two and divorced with two grown sons. Both sons were in college but that did not mean much as the college was just across town. John the oldest was a senior and due to graduate in the fall. He had an apartment near campus, which he shared with his girlfriend. Joe the youngest was a sophomore and lived at home most of the time.

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They had first met in an insurgent camp outside Yogyakarta in the Indonesian jungle, far from their own country of the Philippines. In the Philippines there was little chance that they would have met, especially while the Americans were still there in force, but even in more recent years when the government had been weak and taken up with internal squabbling.

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Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Heather McCormick and I'm a thirty-something m.i.l.f. living in suburban Atlanta, Georgia. The story I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth, and I wouldn't lie, because lying is a sin. Six months ago I was a slovenly 158 pounds of bored, impetuous, spoiled housewife. Now I am a svelte 115 pounds thanks to the Wulfwinter Weight Loss Clinic. Here's my story.

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