Your erotic stories

All the time I was standing out on the balcony of Colleen Addison's house fourteen miles south of Athens, in Voula, overlooking Greece's Miroon Sea, and engaging in chit chat with her and the man who was introduced to me merely as Sam from the Economic Section, I kept thinking that I knew him from someplace but couldn't place him.

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Thanks for reading this story! It's my first one so feel free to leave criticism in the comments. I've wanted to write erotica for a long time and I finally put a story together. This is a shorter story. I've got plans to continue it so stay tuned!

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Divorce didn't figure to be a matter of any particular concern to Josie. Both she and her husband had done well in their careers. If need be she could live well on her own salary plus royalties, but she didn't need to. Rod had been so anxious to shed his middle-aged wife in order to marry the girl barely older than their daughter he agreed to give Josie whatever her lawyer asked.

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I discovered very early in my life that I am an inveterate voyeur. My most fulfilling, most erotic sexual experiences have always involved watching. Watching movies. Watching television. Watching on the Internet. Even watching in my minds eye as I read stories. Naturally, I simply enjoy watching women as they go about their daily activities.

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I love summer time. Especially the clothes. Naomi was wearing those short shorts over her bikini. You know the type, the ones that would show off the color of her panties if she went for the full-bottom briefs. She even decided to forgo a shirt over her top. I'd pulled on a muscle shirt with my suit and we were off for a day at the beach.

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We have a really nice girl friend, named Donna, who lives near us. She is a bit shy, but she likes to do stuff with us, including sex, now and then. One of the things she really likes, is going to the beach, so we take her with us whenever we go. For being a 40 year old woman, she looks pretty hot in a bathing suit, although she does not think so.

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The roses are blooming in the rather plain jar on my desk. It's a canning jar, it once held pickles I think, like the jars that used to line the shelves in your kitchen. The florist thinks I'm ridiculous for my regular purchase of three roses, one pale pink, two darker pink, but they remind me so much of you.

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Jason stood on a rock overlooking a deserted beach beneath him. The cool sea breeze that sent an occasional whiff of salt up to him was a delightful refreshment under the glaring sun. He felt slightly dazed, uncertain if that was due to the heat, the amounts of red wine he had been drinking the night before, or ... he rubbed his eyes, incredulously.

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I can describe beauty. It stands tall and slender at the rails of the boardwalk, allowing the sea breeze to dance with white hair glowing in the moonlight. It is elegance wrapped in a cream-colored mock turtleneck sweater and matching cashmere slacks. Beauty is a countenance of serenity, absorbing the power and wonder of creation knowing all share a common source.

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Sometimes you just need to take a break. It has been four weeks since school has gone back and when I woke up this morning to a glorious sunrise over Port Stephens I decided it was time to have a sickie. I called in at about 7.30 and faxed my lesson plans at 8.30. By then the sun was blasting into my lounge room window and I knew that it would be another hot day. I have numerous beaches to choose from and with the wind coming from the west I decided to go to Hardwood Bay surf Beach.

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