Your erotic stories

"So?" Jason asked as he rolled up at the bottom of the drive on his mountain bike. Robert held up his phone, showing the message from his older brother with two specifically capitalized words in an otherwise innocuous message — care package. "Sweet. Let's roll." The pair set out on the gravel road, riding even deeper into the middle of nowhere. Living out in the country certainly had its disadvantages, but there were a few things that helped offset the boredom and inconvenience. One of them was the lack of prying eyes.

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I suppose you could say it was my own fault. I was on holiday and I suppose I let my hair down a bit. You know how it is. School's over for the year. You're eighteen and away from home. Nothing to do but have a good time. And that's what I was doing. That's all. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Not really. On this particular day I'd hired a moped and gone for a drive. I was just another teenager buzzing around on this little bike. It was fun.

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For as long as I can remember, I've always had a thing for panties. Not wearing them. Seeing them, smelling them, touching them. And, of course, coming on them. I'm almost always turned on when I see a girl's panties. With the current trend of low-slung jeans and pants, my eyes are always on the lookout for a girl whose panties or thong is in view.

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There had been quite a group of them there together when they first hit the beach. It had been a hot day and it seemed that everyone they knew had decided to spend it on the beach. With the cool change most people had packed up and gone. Even the surf had died down. There was still a little group of friends there. There was only a few of them now and they were the last. Once they were gone the beach would be deserted.

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"I'll take a double," said Dan as he settled onto the couch. "On it," Megan called back as she took the bottle of rum from Kara and pulled it to her lips. She took a wet swig and then topped off three full glasses. The girls' ground floor apartment was just down the path from the pool. After a good swim, the invitation for a drink sounded just right.

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Captain Andy had three passengers for this trip. Captain might sound a fancy title for a man with only a small motor yacht, but what the hell? He owned and drove it and that made him captain in his books. Or in his boat, anyway. Andy was in the mid-twenties, tanned, not un-handsome, affable and an extrovert. He seemed to get on with everyone he met, which is a useful talent for someone who hires out his boat for day cruises. He had a lot of repeat customers.

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Tyler let out a sigh of relief as he set down the last fully painted model of his Dark Angels' army. He stood up and made his way across the room tiredly. He stopped abruptly in front of his full length mirror, taking a good look at himself. For an 18 year-old freshman in college he looked pretty damn good, he thought. Short brown hair, fairly tall, and very well toned.

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Saturday: I arrived at the address to collect the key for my holiday house in Spain. I knocked on the door and a young man answered. A very handsome young man! He was about twenty or twenty-one and had beautiful dark brown eyes, black hair and a deep suntan. "I'm Kay and I've come to collect the key for the holiday home I'm renting for the week." "Right," he said, looking me up and down, "I'll get my mother."

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I lay bored in my bed, idly tapping my finger on my upper thigh. It was sticky hot outside; the type of hot that causes your clothes to cling to your skin, so I lay sprawled out under my fan, trying to keep cool. Even though I was wearing a velvet red string bikini, I was still flushed with tiny droplets of sweat crawling down between my breasts, and I was bored.

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"It's broken, I'm afraid." Devastation. No, this couldn't be happening. "You'll need a cast for 6-8 weeks, and plenty of rest with no strenuous activity. Then some therapy to get the muscles in your arm back in shape. But swimming should take care of that for you." No, no, no, no, no. No. Damn trampoline. I looked up at Dave.

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