Your erotic stories

Hawaii was everything Anita had expected it would be! Beautiful white sands, the turquoise blue waters of Pearl Harbor, the beautiful lush Island with its enchanting music of Hawaiian guitars throbbing, their sounds filling the open air. Only two weeks before, Anita had decided she would 'treat' herself to two weeks in Honolulu, Hawaii. Though money was short, she had sufficient funds to have a nice modest vacation for two weeks.

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Brooke was home from summer vacation and already had way too much time on her hands as it was, but this summer was different she was home from her sophomore year of college and she was undecidedly single. Brooke was short, and thin. She had large breast, and a nice round ass. At 19, her dark skin, and long hair made her a vixen that she was proud of being. She walked around with very little to cover her voluptuous body, but that didn't matter she loved being looked at. She loved the thought of people getting turned on by looking at her.

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"The roads look like they're getting bad fast. You might as well stay here for the night." It was a reasonable statement of reality. Factual, logical. Looking out their front room window at the raging winter storm the last thing I wanted was to go out into the middle of it. However, the second-to-the-last thing I wanted was to encroach on their privacy.

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My lover and I have known each other for a while now, and have been talking of adding a third to our intimate party. We have both fantasized and discussed what we would want in a third and decided that it would be best to add a man over a woman. He was bi-curious and I always thought the idea of two guys together was very erotic. We discussed in detail what kind of things we would like to see take place and what kind of man we were looking for that could satisfy both of our needs.

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I’ve been single for about six months now, and had been invited over to Jay and Maria’s for dinner. I was looking forward to getting out of my flat. Jay is one of my best friends – we have known each other since we were five years old. Jay is my age, average height, and has close-cropped hair as he started going bald a few years ago. He is fairly fit though, and keeps in shape running and cycling.

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Shortly after I turned thirty-nine my mother died suddenly of a coronary thrombosis. Dad had died seven years earlier. So since my brother Kenny, a journalist and my only sibling, was living in London at the time, and my daughter was in her second year of college, I was left alone with the task of going through my mother's things and deciding what should be kept and what should be thrown away.

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Three PM at the coffee shop last week, I saw someone I had not seen for nine years. Monet was a woman I had hired years ago to work in the shop I ran at the time. I was not the owner, but managed a gift shop on Sutter Street at Stockton in San Francisco. She and I ran the shop nights and weekends, and she was always nice to be around. At the time, we were both in our twenties, and things were good.

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I started or ended many of the next few days looking at the photos or examining some aspect of the video I found particularly arousing. I will confess, I made several trips to the ladies' room to tease my clit into climax recalling our activities that night. The pink shirt situation was little different. The warmer weather was starting to see some more colorful golf shirts come out of people's closets.

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You never know a woman How much do you know your partner? Even in later years, contrary to popular belief, new things can and do happen. We have been married now for many years, enjoyed each others company, grown together, produced our children and basked in the love of our grandchildren. Without giving too much away, our eldest daughter is thirty five and mother of four boys.

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Next month I shall be sixty-seven years old. Before then there will be the fifth anniversary of the day my darling Dorothy was taken from me. A merciful release, said people who had known of her illness; and so it was. I still think of her, of course, and that is why I cannot help feeling just a little guilty about the turn my life has taken in the intervening years.

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