Your erotic stories

The alarm clock's music filled the room at 4am and Liz reached over to shut it off. She was tired. As the years passed she grew more and more tired. She was 52 years old, a little heavier, a little softer, a little more mellow...and yes, a little more tired. She stood, tugging at the sheets and quilt as she made the bed. She would strip them this weekend and do the laundry. Same as every Saturday.

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I was driving down to Knoxville Tennessee to help my best friend move back up to Michigan. I had a six pack cooler filled with five bottles of Aquafina water and crushed ice sitting on the floorboard on the passenger side. The sixth was wedged between my legs. I was driving a rented Lincoln Town Car straight down I-75 and was screaming through Kentucky when I noticed the upcoming road sign. It was announcing an exit for a road two miles ahead.

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Here I was, in the huge backseat of a restored '57 Chevy Bel-Air with a woman whose name I couldn't remember; her mouth, tasting of whiskey and tobacco, kissing me, her callused, sure, hands slipping off my panties. My wide hips tipping up to let her, my mouth slack and open to her demanding, slippery, tongue; my head tilted, eyes open, staring at the rivulets of rain streaking the fogged side window.

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"For the last time; I don't KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" "Oh I think you do. I just don't understand who or what you're protecting." "Fucking cucaracha, do you have any ears?!" "And again, with the feistiness...Just tell us what we want to know." The room was poorly lit for effect, but the redhead didn't know that. She was blindfolded and cuffed to a cold steel chair.

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Gerri killed the engine on her bass boat and glided into a cove sighing with contentment. Looking around at the morning mist rising from the lake she couldn't think of anywhere she would rather be or anything else she would rather be doing. As the boat slowed to a near stop she rose from the helm and slid into her bass seat taking up her rod and engaging the foot controlled trolling motor.

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I've just spent another long, hot afternoon in the garden and all I can think about is taking a shower to cool myself down. The garden looks great, but I'm a mess. Covered in dirt and sweat, I let myself into the back door and slip out of my gardening boots. I've rinsed myself off a bit with the hose but it's nowhere near what a shower could do for me.

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I snapped out of my fog just as Nicole stopped talking. She had gotten into a story about some boy she met last summer, and, quite frankly, I couldn't have cared less. Her voice was so sexy though, I didn't mind the droning on. "Uh...mmm" My standard reply. I had been staring at her mouth. Heat prickled up to my face.

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Oh my god, its HER. My breath catches so suddenly I have to put out a hand to the wall and steady myself. My right hand of course. My left hand is holding my Champagne glass and although I want to catch her attention, the sound of breaking glass is not how I prefer to do that.

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It had been a year since I'd seen her...months since we'd last spoken. When she walked up to me in the lobby of the hotel where our convention was being held all those feelings rushed back to me in an instant. The heat growing through my body. I tugged at my clothes and patted my hair as I watched her walk towards me with that easy gait. Her strides long and confident. Her clothing all black, just like always.

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I had just turned 35 – and not at all unhappy about that. I didn't have a lover, and that was fine too – I've never been desperate that way; I can be happy all by myself. So when my gay and lesbian health clinic was having one of its almost chronic fund raisers, and I was asked to volunteer for the date auction, I smiled brightly said sure, I'd be glad to.

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