Your erotic stories

"Freefall," Rebecca Quinn thought to herself as the elevator lowered her and her Husband down to the lobby of her office building so they could go have lunch together. "Freefall...That's just what my life feels like right now," she had to stifle a perverse chuckle at the irony of the comparison between the elevator and her place in life. Rebecca had been married to Neal Quinn for almost 22 years. The first dozen or so had been decent, but there was no mistake the two had drifted apart for the last decade and Rebecca had been having an affair on and off with a man from her office building for past year.

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The first best word to describe me by is ordinary. The second best word to use is horny as it is possible for a 25 year old young man to be. Add in slender, heavy glasses, insecure, and an almost complete lack of any line of rap? Well, you get the picture. The problem with that combination is that to hook up with a female, I have to work harder at it than some of my buds.

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In all the fantasies in my mind, I'm a thin, svelte, beautiful woman. In real life I'm a plump, voluptuous, attractive woman. I have curves like a real woman, not angles like Barbie. The man I'm looking for doesn't have to be a Ken. (Actually, I don't want a Ken, because I want a man with working parts.) I'm not adverse to finding a good looking man. I like a sculpted chest, and I love a nicely formed ass, one that fits well into my hands. Those usually are my standards, I have been known to take a chance on a man who doesn't meet those rules.

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It had been 15 years since her Harold had passed away, and Marge had gotten used to being alone. Of course, she had lady friends, and some male acquaintances, but at 66 years old, she had removed sex from her life, except the occasional fantasy about Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise. Harold had been the only man, except for a brief fling with his Best Man right after he passed. She chalked that up to grieving, and they had found comfort in each other, although he felt so guilty afterwards that they stopped it after 2 dates.

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It was just past closing time as I looked through the shop window with great interest in the quiet side street I found myself on. I had the night to kill being away with business and had gone for a walk around the town's small streets before I went for something to eat. It was filled with corsets, girdles, suspenders and bras, all for the more middle aged but discerning lady. A couple of torso dummies at either end of the window display showed some lacy attire that really had me thinking.

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Any time of change in one's life can be scary as well as exciting. Ron Matthews thought of this has he sat in his assigned chair on the football field, preparing to walk across the stage and receive his high school diploma. His father had always told him not to be afraid of the future but to embrace it. Still, it was going to be difficult going from an eighteen year old high school senior and all-star basketball player at Northville High School to an unknown freshman at Mid-State University.

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A new family had moved into our area this year and their son Danny Watkins and mine Alan had befriended each other, I didn't particularly like him, I couldn't quite put my finger on it but there was this feeling about him I didn't like. He seemed to be one of those bad boys to me, but he had never done anything to make the really unreasonable assumption I had of him.

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Denise Hallowell was brushing her long brunette hair in the front hallway mirror. Her friend Jessie was chastising her as they looked at each other in the reflective glass. "Denise, you are such a bitch!" Jess Crawford, Denise's best friend, shook her head disapprovingly. "You know your dad's still hurting. Why do you say things like that?" "It wasn't so bad, Jess." In a backhanded sort of way, Denise agreed with Jess. "But just the thought of that cu... bitch! She fuckin pisses me off.

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He sat in his favorite chair, on the back deck, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was feeling sorry for himself remembering old times with his ex-wife. Their union had not been the most exciting life experience. He, was however, looking forward to his ritual afternoon pleasure. He was on his fourth or maybe fifth beer when she finally made her appearance, his next-door neighbor who on any bright sunny afternoon made her ablutions to the sun god wearing nothing but a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. She was too young for him to guess her age, but he took a stab at it noting the maturity of her curves the width of her gorgeous hips and guessed between twenty-eight and thirty-five.

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It wasn't that I didn't like my dad, it was just that I thought he was kind of a buffoon. A buffoon that had got real lucky, but he was the kind of guy who never realized it was luck that got him to where he was. It was Dad's good fortune to be at the right place at the right time and by a series of coincidences end up married to a woman who was far superior to him in just about every way.

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