Your erotic stories

Hi everyone this is a little filler between Not To Late and its sequel that I'm working on. Many thanks to my wonderful editor for her help with this. Please leave comments as the help me improve my writing and enjoy. ~#~ "Aww, Miles. Come to bed already! I want to give you an early birthday present," Ryan moaned from the sofa. It was ten thirty at night and Miles was still typing away on his art report.

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So, here's a story you perhaps don't hear every day. It's a true story, but it has a couple of layers, so allow me to explain some of the moving parts. I'll try not to ramble too much so we can get to the juicy stuff. My name is Max and this happened to me. Sometimes I still can't believe how it all played out. I work at a small business in the hospitality industry.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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As he sipped his gin and tonic he realised he had mixed it too strong. A little dutch courage was a godsend on nights like this, but he had to keep his wits about him. He dragged his eyes away from the muted television to his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. He thought a moment, and decided she could wait a little longer.

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I've been watching her for days and I don't know why. What was it she had that made my colleague, Fran, employ her? She was average looking at best and her figure was nothing special, not that you could really see that much of it as she kept it covered up at all times. Her fashion sense at times seemed frumpy and old for a younger woman. Her name was Claire and I'd say about twenty years my junior.

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Summer at last, a day at the beach, you bloody beauty, but hang on, I suppose some sort of intro is necessary I guess – my name is Devlin Watergate, I'm 46, widowed, I have a 22 year old daughter who is the spitting image of her mother, presently overseas working for the Australian High Commission. She comes home occasionally which rather cramps my style a little, but having her home makes up for that.

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Kaden walked in the door without a smile on his face. "Take that off," He ordered, pointing to my towel. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard a knock at the door. He pulled the smaller towel from my hair and dropped it to the floor. The cool beads hit my warm back with the nearly twenty inches of thick, moist hair and rolled to my bottom.

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Your heart is thumping, the adrenalin and anticipation beginning to be usurped by arousal. This whole scenario has an element of the surreal, and yet you stay fixed to this spot. He stirs behind you, moving close enough for his cologne to caress your senses, even if his hands are yet to.

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"Damn it all, why cancel tonight of all nights?" She slammed the phone back on its cradle. "Friday night, new shoes, shaved my legs and everything, and the bastard cancels last minute. Men!" Amy had been looking forward to going out, to alleviate the monotony, get away from the rut she had been in for so long. All of a sudden it was another Friday night just so many others...

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I needed a vacation and a tropical island was the best remedy for the mid-winter blues. Any island would do, as long as it had warm, sandy beaches. So I booked a trip to Jamaica and before I knew it, I was on a plane headed south away from the snow and the cold.

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