Your erotic stories

"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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The whole thing was Margaret's idea, not mine. You could say I was more a reluctant victim rather than an eager participant. It was late spring and the weather was warming up nicely. Still too cold to go to the beach in my opinion, but it wouldn't be long. It was a Saturday afternoon, reasonably warm, and Margaret came around with her bright idea. She wanted to go to the beach and get an early start on a suntan.

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Jessica and Travis had known each other for a couple of weeks and were developing a flirtatious relationship. It wasn't too serious yet, but their tantalizing and sexy interaction was starting to build. He had just invited her over to his beach house for the first time. He, also, mentioned to her that he had something daring and sexy planned. This peaked her curiosity. When she arrived, Travis gave her a friendly, affectionate hug and welcomed her in.

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My day brightened the minute Crystal walked in the door. Crystal made deliveries to my work place several times a week, and we had gotten to the point where we would flirt playfully a little each time we talked. At about 35, she was 10 years older than me, but that didn't seem to bother either one of us. Crystal was short, about 5'4" and weighed about 105 lbs. She didn't have the hard tight body of girls my age anymore, but her round curves made her more sensual to me.

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I was swimming the day my chance came. It was a nice day, but for some reason there weren't many people at the beach. I'd swum out to one of the rafts that the council provide and was just lying there, when she also swam out to the raft and hopped aboard. It was definitely my lucky day. Denise. What can I say about Denise. She was our beautiful, virgin, bitch queen. That description isn't a hundred percent accurate. She was definitely beautiful, and even more definitely a bitch.

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I was driving cross-country to visit my parents. Halfway across the state I stopped in at a motel to spend the night. It was quite a nice motel, all mod cons, including a swimming pool. And, on a hot sultry night like the current one was shaping up to be, a swimming pool sounded rather appealing.

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It was going to be a long weekend. With Monday as a gazetted public holiday I had three days in which to do nothing, and that's what I intended to do. I was going to just relax, bum around the house, maybe work on the car and maybe play on the internet. I was completely unsuspicious when my mother asked if I had anything planned for the weekend. "Nope," I said happily. "Just one long bludge."

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I had just arrived home on break from college and was in Chip’s neighborhood, so I figured I’d just drop in and see if he’d gotten home yet. No one answered when I rang the doorbell and I was about to head back down the driveway when I heard a splash, indicating that someone was using the pool. I walked around the side of the house thinking it might be Chip but stopped before I opened the gate to the backyard. I could see the diving board still vibrating and a figure just surfacing at the shallow end of the pool.

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I had only been out of work for a week, and already I was getting bored. And that's a bad thing for me . . . to be bored. It's how I always get into trouble. Okay, it's one of the ways I get into trouble. So here I am, back home in the mountains of Tennessee, and I need something to do. It's beautiful here, and very secluded.

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I was divorced after nearly twenty years of marriage. It was an old story. College sweethearts marry. Husband wants to be a doctor so wife drops out of college to work and put him through med school, then quits when hubby becomes a doctor. After twenty years, hubby hits midlife crisis and decides the only way he can rediscover his youth is to trade in his forty for a couple of twenties.

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