Your erotic stories

She arrived exactly on time; seven o'clock. I heard the doorbell ring and felt a small rush of adrenalin. With Amanda, I had learned to expect the unexpected. Thus the adrenalin. I opened the door to all 5'11" of her, and smiled. She was so good at this. Standing there with her massage table and linen bag, dressed in loose‐fitting pants, a collared work shirt and tennis shoes, she looked every bit the part of a normal masseuse.

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Janet Kinsella was newly divorced and happily so. She had been married for 23 years, some happy, some not so, until she had found out that her husband had had a string of discreet but plentiful affairs. After confronting him, he announced that he found everything about Janet bland, nonsensical and boring. She had calmly packed his bags the following day whilst he was at work, put them in the garden, called a locksmith, had all the locks changed and then got in her car and driven to the coast.

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It was Saturday night, and I was looking for company. I didn't have any particular prospects, but I did have a standing invitation to attend a party that an acquaintance of mine threw on the first weekend of every month; I had never attended one, but I had a hunch that it might be a good place to go looking for love, seeing as how Randall, the acquaintance, always seemed to be accompanied by a different, very attractive woman.

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