Your erotic stories

Each year I travel to the convention at Hay on Wye. It's a small town near Monmouth in Wales that has the most amazing river close by where in my teens and early twenties I used to canoe. Now I go to this sleepy area for its once a year awakening where book sellers, buyers and authors come to share tales, ply their trade or just browse and pick up the atmosphere.

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As Linda there on her bed, her mind began to wander. She had just gotten home from work, and had decided to lie down for a few minutes before starting dinner. And as she laid there, she started thinking about an amazing massage that she had gotten a few days ago, and the incredibly beautiful woman who had given it to her. This Lady Masseuse was new at the gym, and her name was Tina (or at least that was what it said on her name tag).

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Late, late, late -- I am going to be late. I muttered this mantra to myself as I ran to my car. It was 7:32 and I was supposed to check in by 8:15 at the seminar. I was headed to a teacher's seminar at a hotel about forty-five minutes from my house. The day was already hot and humid. I needed to pick up a few extra classes so I would have a better chance at getting a substitute teaching job at one of the schools close by.

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The bus ride started out innocently enough, but then most major events do. If anyone really knew what was going to happen to them at the end of the day—or night for that matter—would they board the bus, or would they stay home? Would you drink that last glass of wine and stumble out into the rain with only a knee-length vinyl rain slicker to cover your nudity, or would you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain on the roof? I'd probably do it all over again.

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It's a beautiful hot summer day and I'm in the front garden admiring my hard work. Weed free beds, blooming flowers soaking up the water I have given them, bees and butterflies dancing to natures tune. "Hey Mrs B, how are ya?" I'm startled, shaken from my reverie. I see Robbie's friend Dean on the pavement, looking young and fresh in shorts, jogging on the spot. I smile my automatic welcoming 'Mummy' smile.

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Maxine stepped into the new black tube dress she'd bought and pulled it up over her body. It clung to every curve and she immediately regretted buying it. Her usual style was simple and classic, cut to her knee with a sensible neckline. The saleswoman told her that she wasn't to wear a bra or panties, as it would ruin the 'line'. At the time Maxine had dismissed her advice but now, looking in the mirror, she could understand.

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