Your erotic stories

The way a woman smells is more of a turn on than almost anything else. Of course I do love the way women look and have a preference for those with a fuller figure and a great smile but if that womanly scent is masked with strong perfume and layers of product it just turns me off.

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I hadn't seen him in person for nearly three years, since shortly after he became Governor and I moved away to college. Mitch, to those close to him, had moved his family next door when I was sixteen. They were really nice people, and neighbors. He had one son, Robert, which was in my class in High School, though I didn't know him well because he had transferred from another school.

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I was walking across campus, headed to a nearby pizza restaurant for a late lunch. Suddenly a body pressed into my back and a hand covered my eyes. Startled, I tried to get away but my unknown assailant held me tight, something cold pressed into the middle of my back. I started to struggle and then I heard his voice.

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I walked into my Civil War history class on the first day of the fall semester. I enrolled in this class as a crip credit. My Dad was a Civil War buff and I spent my entire life hearing about the various battles, participants, what should have been done, stupid mistakes that were made, and endless trivia.

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Down came the windows, though she knew that the interior would have a fine coating of gravel dust by the time she returned home. It was the first truly warm day of the year. The office had hired a couple of people to reduce her workload. She'd finally come to her senses and returned to single life after a string of two bad relationships.

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The grill was hot and sending enticing aromas floating throughout the neighborhood. Everywhere there was laughter and conversation as the family caught up at the last blast of summer — the annual Labor Day cookout. Zach stole a glance at the cooler as his uncle fished out a beer. Daydreaming about how good an ice-cold beer would go down, he sighed.

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My fiancé said, "Kate, you have to promise me you won't look in this one box. Promise?" I laughed and held up my hand like taking an oath. "I promise, sir!" "Mr. Zankov, you keep her honest for me until I get home. In fact, here." Our new landlord helped carry some out belongings from the car to our 3rd floor apartment. He took the brown box from John while saying, "Da, Da! Your secret safe. Segei too promise."

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All the time I was standing out on the balcony of Colleen Addison's house fourteen miles south of Athens, in Voula, overlooking Greece's Miroon Sea, and engaging in chit chat with her and the man who was introduced to me merely as Sam from the Economic Section, I kept thinking that I knew him from someplace but couldn't place him.

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My name is Fred and I'm a disgusting bastard. At least that was what my last girl friend called me as she threw me out of her house. I guess she's right but I can't help it, for you see I happen to think that a lady's armpit is about the sexiest part of her body. Don't ask me why because I just don't know and although I try to hide my secret it always comes out one way or the other.

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Dan and Brian lived upstairs from me. I had lived in the building for about two months when I started running into to them more frequently at the mailboxes in the lobby. The building had more than a few gay men and couples living there. While many of the other guys in the building were playfully flirty (and sometime more earnest than playful) Dan and Brian were at first, always polite but never much more. They were rare that way and maybe that was what made them intriguing.

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