Your erotic stories

May 14th, 1969 was a day that Kenny Holmes would never forget, and not because it happened to be his 18th birthday either. It was a day that he had been looking forward to for quite some time, and the anticipation was making his heart race as the bus neared the end of the route. Kenny got off the bus a block before his destination because he didn't want to bus driver to know where he was going.

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What attracted me to... Linda Groves at first was the hair on the arms. The blonde that worked with me at my part-time job at the grocery store during my first year of college was not extraordinary looking in any other way, but one look at her arms got my attention right away.

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Jack Barker watched his girlfriend's son go into the garage, and after making sure that his soon-to-be wife was in the bathroom, went out the back door and toward the garage. Jack had just moved into the modest old farmhouse a couple of days ago, although he had spent a lot of time there in the year he had been courting Alice Randolph.

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1. Watching Rani reach. It all started innocently enough as far as I was concerned. I would stop at a gas station on my way to work and pick up the morning paper and a cup of coffee. The only reason I began stopping at this particular place was that it was easy to get in and out of. The reason I continued to go there was Rani.

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This is a complete story, although there is a sequel possible if reader interest is there. *** To the rest of our family, Grandma Rose was - let's be charitable and use the word "eccentric". In the words of my mother, my father's mother was a "nuttier than a fruitcake" and often suggested that she be put in a rubber room somewhere.

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1. The scheme. The sudden gust of frigid wind practically tore the storm door out of Ed's hand as he went out into the wicked early March evening. An unexpected storm was moving in and a couple of inches of snow had already fallen as Ed helped his wife into their car which had been idling in the driveway. Ed ran around and slid behind the wheel, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together in an effort to restore some circulation.

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It had been about an hour since the card game in the kitchen had broken up, and I noticed that we didn't play as long as we used to. Maybe that was because the other two players were getting older, although my mother is only 50 and her brother Butch is just a couple years older.

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"I don't understand," my neighbor said, her dark brown eyes wide open as she struggled to comprehend what was going on. What had started out just like the last few nights, an innocent game of rummy in the kitchen of her modest little apartment had changed dramatically in the last few minutes due to my actions and words. My words had come easy because they were what was going on through my mind even since I had met Tara a few months ago, but even though I was the one that said them I couldn't believe that I had actually said them aloud.

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I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.

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When Lyle Quigley went to the grocery store that afternoon in June, he was expecting to pick up a few things he wife asked him to pick up and get back to enjoy the peaceful solitude of his house while the wife was at work.

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