Your erotic stories

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as her homely face wrinkled and crinkled at the printout in her hand. She looked back and forth from her itinerary, to her wrist watch, and back again. She was clearly not pleased. "Problems?" I asked from seat 22A. "I think I'm going to miss my connection!" she said from seat 22B.

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Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.

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She got into the hotel elevator on the 7th floor, wearing nothing a swimsuit with a towel around her waist, at the same time I got out, and I knew I had to follow her. There was no doubt it was the same woman I'd noticed that morning as I'd left for the conference, leaving room 713 just after I'd walked out of 717. She'd had on a perfectly smooth pencil skirt over black hose or stockings, a matching jacket, three-inch heels, and a white blouse--the kind of business attire that drives me to distraction every single time.

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My alarm startled me awake, even though the only sound it made was the gentle vibration of my cell phone against my nightstand. It seemed every morning promptly at 9:15 I went through this ritual when it went off, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I reached over for the little button on the side, stopping the noise and rolled back over, snuggling deeper into the warm blankets. I heard the covers rustle slightly, and then I felt a single finger tracing patterns on the bare skin of my back.

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You walk straight through the hotel reception and head over to the elevators. Pushing the button you wait for it to arrive. You are wearing the tight blue jeans red hoodie that you know I like. Underneath is the black underwear from one of the pictures you sent me when we first started talking to each other.

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A few years ago, Connie worked as a bookkeeper for a small chain of home improvement stores in Pennsylvania. At the time, she had been married for about 8 years and had 2 small children. From time to time, the company would send her to accounting seminars. Connie was happy with her personal life, but she relished the trips.

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It's been a long time coming. I finally was able to write my next story. This story is courtesy of my two best sexual friends, DC and RU. Thanks for everything. Feedback ALWAYS welcome. + The shower is a big one, with lots of jets and spray everywhere. Plenty of steam, too. I lean him up against the wall, legs and arms spread out, like I'm ready to frisk him. He's facing the wall, showing me his magnificent backside.

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