Your erotic stories

It was my fault, I'm sure. I was preoccupied and I was piloting the shopping cart very poorly so it's no surprise I bumped into somebody. I clipped her cart with a bit of a jolt which brought me out of my distraction in a hurry. "Sorry! Sorry, that was my fault." She gave me a smile, a sweet, forgiving thing that was a tiny ray of sunshine in my personally overcast day.

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It was a blistering hot summer day. I had just walked a couple of miles from the auto dealer repair shop where I had left my car for a tune up. Normally it's a pleasant walk but today it was just sweaty. I was nearly home when a voice behind me said, "Oh good, could you help me with this?" I heard her bike come to a stop. It was Kimberly, my neighbor, kitty corner from across the street. I was standing right in front of her house. Kimberly and her husband are a young couple that purchased their first home here several months ago. Kimberly is a grade school teacher.

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Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.

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It had been a work day that didn't seem like it would ever end. Kaitlyn hated her job on a good day. Working in the Accounts Payable department as a junior clerk was just boring. All she did was just process one bill after another. All the other clerks were substantially older than her. She was only out of school for 3 years, twenty years younger than the next person. There wasn't much in common with them so there wasn't even a social aspect of the job.

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It's a beautiful day. A cool breeze blows, lessening the warming effects of the shining sun which has already begun its descent into the horizon. The smell of freshly cut grass and fragrant flowers adds to the ambience, creating a soothing environment as the sounds of music begin to fill the air. I lounge back in my seat, relishing the warming sensation that begins to fill my body as I enjoy my fourth gin and tonic of the afternoon.

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I glanced around nervously as Mya dug through her purse, searching for her keys. "What time is your boyfriend coming home again?" I asked, waiting impatiently as she continued rummaging. "Stop worrying about it?" she chided, pulling her keys from the purse, fumbling them in her drunken fingers. "He won't be back until the morning."

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Usually, I-75 from Fort Lauderdale to Naples isn't a very exciting ride. But as my car sped along, passing Florida State Road 19 at around 75 mph, I was pretty fired up. Yeah, I noticed the hundred or so gators sunning themselves on the embankment that lines the interstate; that was different. However, the hormones that were coursing through me this day didn't have anything to do with being excited over cars, or mileage, or gators. The drive itself was a nuisance.

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Julia picked up another glass of champagne as she glanced around the room. "Pompous assholes," she thought to herself, taking a sip of the drink, watching the endless parade of rich old men arm in arm with their trophy wives. Julia hated these functions and cringed at the mere mention of attending one. It was her duty, however, as her husband expected her to be there hanging off his arm like all the other fake plastic gold diggers that frequented fundraisers such as this one.

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Jane had been Ryan's roommate for a few months, the two working at the same large state agency together. Ryan was thirty years old, fit, attractive and had an incredibly sexy and kinky girlfriend named Stacey. Jane, was twenty nine years old, about 5'5, with shoulder length black hair, a slight tan all year round and an athletic body that she took good care of going to the gym five days a week. Before Ryan had gotten to know Jane the first thin he noticed about her was her extremely gorgeous tits, in his estimation D cups which might be fake because of the way they defied gravity.

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Gary hooked his thumb vaguely in the direction of the room that he and Kimberly had converted to a nursery. "Kim's feeding the li'l one," he said. "She'll be out in a few minutes." He often referred to his new baby as "the li'l one." In fact her name was Emily, but at six months, I suppose "the li'l one" is as good a tag as any. Then with his other hand he hooked a thumb toward the hallway that lead to his music studio. "Sheila, I wanted to show you the folio of Bach etudes I just got."

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