Your erotic stories

As a writer here, I am quite different. I write for women! I write in the 1st and 2nd person present text. I write for those women that are sexually bored, sadly underappreciated in their roles as girlfriend, wife and mother, or frightfully inhibited, but hiding a secret insatiable fantasy side...I write for those women that yearn to be in the grasp of strong, successful, attractive dominant men...men that are mysterious, successful, powerful, erotic.

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"I don't understand what she sees in him," said Michael, already feeling depressed at the thought of spending an evening with his arch nemesis, Nick. "I know Michael. But... she's been my best friend forever and as long as she's happy, then... what can we do?"

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Mattie Addison looked down at the small plastic object her mom had just placed in her hands. "What is this?" She asked as she looked up at her parent. "What does it look like?" Cybil replied to her daughter. "It looks like your Platinum Card, but it can't be your Platinum Card because you'd never let me within 100 miles of that," Mattie said as she brushed some of her dark brown hair from her pretty face.

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As I told you in my first story, " The Boys from next door ", I currently own a home for retiree's. It, of course, caters for both men and women. I currently have eleven males and nine females. I employ twelve staff for nursing needs, eight females and four men. On top of that I also employ five catering staff. I, of course, jump in and help where-ever I'm needed. I've been doing this since my divorce four years ago. I enjoy it immensely. I have great satisfaction in making sure our elderly are well taken care of. For this reason, I'm very particular about who I employ.

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I've been watching her for days and I don't know why. What was it she had that made my colleague, Fran, employ her? She was average looking at best and her figure was nothing special, not that you could really see that much of it as she kept it covered up at all times. Her fashion sense at times seemed frumpy and old for a younger woman. Her name was Claire and I'd say about twenty years my junior.

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When I came into the bedroom and saw her off white skirt with the butterflies I knew it was going to be a great day and I was going to get to see her in heels and hose. I was ready and tending to the kids when she came out and she looked great. She had on her brown pumps and sheer Hanes silk reflections. I immediately got the camera and snapped as many picture as I could with the kids running around. My wife sat in her chair reading the paper and crossed her legs towards me, I could see the arch of her foot and she ever so slightly let her shoe slip on her foot a bit exposing just a tad bit more of her foot.

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As I closed my eyes, my hand gripped the pole and I swayed to the beat. It was Metallica, Nothing Else Matters. Slow, heavy, wonderful music. I moaned slightly and lifted my left leg off the floor in my high heels. My heaving chest pulsed as the wetness came to my pussy. Dancing, I felt more alive than at any moment on earth. The eyes upon my body made me totally absorbed in my own sexual high.

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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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I was a college freshman going to a school about 200 miles from home in the North western part of Michigan. The college did not allow freshman to have a car on campus, so anytime that I wanted to go home for the weekend I either had to find a ride home with another student or hitchhike. This spring weekend in particular I decided at the last minute to hitch hike to my home located in rural southeast Michigan.

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It had started as a playful exchange online, but each seemed to know the rules and what was expected. The inevitable meeting 'for coffee' had been eagerly anticipated by each and the time spent in each others company had been as expected; polite, amicable, flirtatious and with a building tension of expectancy.

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