Your erotic stories

The rhythm of your steps on the stairs announces your presence and I look up from chopping the peppers as you unlock the latch. Still dusted with flour from work at the bakery, you look just as juicy as that day last fall when I picked you up at the gym. You slip the bandanna off your head and shake free the mop of red-gold curls it contains. "I got the stuff you wanted from the market. Angelo is bringing it up." I raise an eyebrow, wondering what you are up to. That impish look is all over your face, and your cheeks are flushed. Girl, don't I know that look!

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