Your erotic stories

Ellen Brophy was grateful for the ringing of the telephone, because it jarred her out of her melancholy reverie. She’d been thinking about Jack again, and how much she missed him, and that was never good. She picked up the phone and answered dully, “Hello.” “Mom?” It was Ellen’s daughter, Robin. “Mom, are you OK? You don’t sound so good.” “I’m awright,” Ellen said, although she knew she wasn’t. “Mom, you’ve been thinking about Daddy again, haven’t you,” Robin said in a tone that was half accusatory and half sympathetic.

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