Your erotic stories

Chapter 1 I was laying on a chaise poolside one warm sunny afternoon, thinking about how much my life had changed in the last year. The changes had started with my coming home and finding Harry fucking his partner's wife in our bed. Well, you can imagine. It all hit the fan and I kicked his sorry ass out. The divorce was handled by lawyers, I had a real shark, sorry, guys, but the bastard deserved it and he has a hell of a lucrative business, so I ended up with a very nice settlement and ongoing alimony that lets me not work if I choose to do so. And, right now, that's what I'm choosing.

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I was a late bloomer when I was a kid, a total nerd. I didn't start masturbating until I was nearly 18 and was afraid to ask a girl out for fear of rejection. I had been on one "blind date" of sorts and it had been a total disaster.

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"Jason. Remind me again why I'm doing this?" I asked my older brother as I got out of his car. "Jordan, quit bitching. I really like Patty and she needs someone to look after her brother." "So, I'm supposed to somehow entertain him while you go get laid?" "Exactly. Besides, she says he's a fag, so you maybe you can get laid, too," he chuckled. "Remind me again why I'm not supposed to hate you."

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"Why don't you and Clancy go fishing," my dad said. The five of us, Uncle Ted, Aunt Bessie, Clancy, dad and me were finishing our afternoon tea in the farmhouse kitchen after unloading the fourth load of hay for the day. The new corrugated iron shed was a quarter full of hay and that was all there was room for. The rest was taken up with the farm machinery. The few horses dad still kept were in the old split log barn, which had seen better days.

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Danny was killing time at the one and only shopping mall in his little town, as he did most Saturdays afternoons, when he noticed the blonde muffin. He felt the familiar ache in his groin, in his heart and in his brain as his eyes drank in the stranger's beauty. This guy was born to induce lust; he was the kind of man that always got Danny's pulse racing: big-boned, blonde and beefy with down-home looks on an open, honest face.

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I was randy as hell one day and made up my mind I was going to get laid that afternoon, one way or another. If I had to drive into to town and pick up someone at a bar, I would. But first, I had decided I would see if I could attract someone locally. My beach house is rather isolated. It's the only one for about half a mile in either direction. I know this will change over time. This undiscovered barrier island on the Gulf Coast will eventually be over developed and become like all the rest -- an over crowded tourist venue.

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It was hot as hell, and I still had three more lawns to mow. It was the drawback to making most of my summer money doing yardwork. Graduation was only a few weeks behind me, and college and its expenses loomed ominously over my head. Fortunately, I was going to a local school, but I still had a commute, and books were going to kill me. Anyhow, I'd started early that morning, as soon as the dew was out of the grass, but after two yards already, it was just after noon and the sun pounded down.

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I woke up to find a strange man looking into my bedroom window on the seventeenth floor. Fight-or-flight kicked in first, and I jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. My body didn't know if it should leap from the bed, or jump into a fighting stance. And then my brain caught up and noticed two things at the same time.

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Brad was an only child. He was six years old when his mom, Karoline, died in an accident. He had fond memories of his mom, especially of the one summer he spent in Northern California at her family's beach-front home. Often, he looked at a photo taken on a beach that showed him being hugged by his mother and a woman with long neck and legs. The woman called him, Berde, a Danish name. After his father remarried, he did not have a good relationship with his step mother, Brigitte. He saw her as an immature and selfish woman.

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When I was younger my dad got me a summer job working on Saturdays for Mrs Jones. She was a woman who had a property out by the river and my job was to help her do landscaping, cut back trees, lay pavings etc. The property was a bit run down and it was hard work. Mrs Jones was a bit of a hippie. She lived alone and I guess she must have been divorced because she never wore a wedding ring, even though everyone called her Mrs Jones.

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