Your erotic stories

"Half an hour to go," I thought. We closed at six o'clock on Fridays, and I was definitely ready to go home. It had been a long week at the shoe store where I worked. Michelle, the owner, had decided to hold a big summer sale to try to boost the business. It's hard for a small boutique store to compete with the big chains, so I understood the need, but it had been a crazy week. Michelle did a good job promoting the sale.

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I stood in the shower, allowing the hot water to caress my body in an attempt to wake myself up. The thought of another long day at work wasn't helping the situation, but at least it was Friday. "Get through today and enjoy the weekend," I thought.

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Erica was in my humanities class. I haven't seen her in five years. At the time, I was already looking for a real job and she was living in the dorms. We started talking—complaining really, early in the semester. The first time we spoke we were grumbling our annoyances with our professor, but a week later she was punctuating her sentences with emotive slaps to my shoulder as she shared her worries about our midterm.

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I can still see it in high def, up close and personal; the image is engraved on my brain. The bald, glistening vulva of a teenage girl — a squirming, moaning teenage girl, knees up — is not to be forgotten. The best night of my life was the night my sister had a slumber party. To save money during my last year of college, I moved back in with my parents and commuted from their home in a Boston suburb.

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This girl is a story in itself so it would be rude to Jenny if I just assumed she would be added into the tale of Pat! About a month later, I was in an old local haunt of mine when Jennifer walked in with Lynsey. They saw me and smiled but it wasn't until a couple of drinks later, that she approached me, while her Lynsey was on her mobile.

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I felt a bit disoriented as I woke up. I was lying naked in a bed, with a sheet over me, but I couldn't see much further than the end of the mattress. I tried to gather my thoughts and remember how I'd gotten here, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. I thought I could see movement in the shadows around me, but I couldn't make out any shapes.

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Call me Jerry. I was a stranger in a strange town. I know I'm stealing those opening lines from Melville and Heinlein but if you're going to steal, steal from the best. I had recently moved to Florida and I had made a few friends in my new home but had yet to meet that special someone. My business occasionally took me on the road so here I was in another new town, knowing absolutely no one.

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"And over here is the Exercise Room." The building manager, Kyle Poirer, led me thru the apartment laundry room and gestured me through a door on the far side. It couldn't be called a "gym", but the small room was well-equipped for a good workout. A stationary bicycle, a stair-simulator thing, a rowing machine, and the universal contraption of weights and pulleys. A few exercise mats lay on the carpet. A mirror spanned the west wall.

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Given the choice between a young, hot, ravenous stud and an older gentleman, simmering in passionate wisdom and experience, my preference will always be without a single doubt the old man. I often wonder if men realize that while a woman is walking down a street being appreciated for her eye catching silhouette, offering them a break in the usual nothing to get excited about scenery, that she may be doing a little appreciating of her own.

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"She wants you...she asked me about you again tonight." You state to me casually while we walk. You found out in high school, much to your dismay, that your beautiful friend Sienna prefers the company of other beautiful girls. After moving south for a few years after college, she decided she missed it here and moved back recently. Although I was a little hesitant when you first told me about her, I figured I didn't have anything to worry about between the two of you.

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