Your erotic stories

An old Army friend of my husband showed up one day out of the blue. Norman had just bought a business hear our home town and came by to say 'Hi." To my husband. That is how Fred and I became interested in RVing. Norman sold motor homes and travel trailers over in Ohio just across the state line. We visited Norman at the sales lot and Fred was hooked on this as the only way to travel. So we bought a new motor home with all the bells and whistles. We also found out about snow-birding.

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Jimmy was disappointed to find his fantasy woman from the previous trip to his grandparents wasn't on the train this time, but amused himself by remembering his mother's cries as all those cocks filled her slutty body. He'd been tormented in her presence since the revelation in Dan's cellar and had tried to avoid her as much as possible; a trip to his gran's would be just the thing to help him work his mind straight, he thought, and he was right - though not in the way he expected.

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You've been coming over to the house for three weeks to cut the grass, always when I have been out shopping or away on other adventures. I had the misfortune every tine to miss you by just a few minutes, until last week. The Jeep my son had bought you was sitting in the drive way when I got home, grass had been freshly mowed, but I didn't see you around anywhere.

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Needless to say, I was enjoying my hot times with "Grandma" Anna and "Grandpa" Frank. I called my real grandmother to tell her that I was extending my stay by a couple of days, maybe even a week. "Ok, baby," grandma said on the phone. "I miss you, honey. But it's ok. Patty DeLay's husband just died, so I'm spending a lot of time with her. But come home soon. I need you." I agreed and hung up the phone.

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Pity me, the poor orphan! My mother gave me up for adoption when she was 17, and I was that many minutes old. I grew up with Mom and Pop Hadley on a quiet, tree-lined street in a quiet, little town in upstate New York. Good home cooking. Lots of love. And, to be honest, almost zero questions about my birth mom.

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As a civilian apprentice working with the British Royal Navy back in the late 1970s, once my exams were out of the way I would spend my summer months working in places like Portsmouth, Plymouth, Newcastle and Glasgow to gain practical experience in the shipyards and naval bases. On my first visit to Plymouth, aged 19, little did I realise that I was about to gain practical experience on a more personal and life-changing level.

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1. England in the early Eighteenth Century was a lawless country populated by the toffs on the one hand and the proletariat on the other. It was also a land noted for its number of highwaymen, chief among which was Dick Turpin from whom nobody who travelled the highways and byways of that green and not-so-pleasant land was safe.

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Pain scorched the young man's esophagus. Pain burned the inside of his mouth. Good old pain. The young man welcomed the awful smell that accompanied the pain. "Pain is weakness leaving your body," several of his coaches had quoted to him. This time, pain was empty calories and disfiguring fat leaving his body. The pain and the scent were signals. He was fighting to maintain what mattered.

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"Atkins, can you spare one of those peach-colored roses for me today?" I looked up at Mrs. Deershorn sticking her head out the window above me. The sweet old lady was about 65 and lived in the floor above me in this small apartment complex. I had moved in about 4 months earlier after a bad breakup with my longtime girlfriend. One of the reasons I took this room was the availability of a garden out my back patio. I had always loved gardening and in my mixed-up emotional state it was great solace.

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"It's a girl, Mom!" My son-in-law Zack chirped exuberantly through the phone. "It's a girl. You have a beautiful granddaughter." Pressing my cell phone firmly to my ear, I couldn't believe how blank my mind had suddenly gone. Of all the things I thought I would say at this moment, I was at a complete loss for words and was finding it difficult to breathe.

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