Your erotic stories

"Thanks for coming in, Jenny. We'll be back in touch with you." And with those words, I figured that was all I'd ever hear about the summer job I'd just interviewed for. I'd spent half the morning getting ready to meet the manager of Dustee's, the little clothing boutique at the mall where I'd put in my application. And in about five minutes, the interview was over!

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She had joined a new health club. It was near where she worked three days a week in the publishing firm her family had owned for three generations. That meant she could go there during her lunch break if she wished, but today she had gone there after work had finished. It was after nine and there were few people around for it closed at eleven.

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Leoni was by all accounts a rather attractive woman. And she was a woman, now. She had not really appreciated the change herself. The way her cheeks had come in, her features come finer and lean. The elegant lines of her nose and lips. The way her eyes now looked to men, her slightly green eyes, fortuitous under her red Irish hair.

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I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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It was at the village fete that I saw her. I had just emerged from the main tent, after judging the sponge cake competition -- a solemn duty for the parish vicar's wife -- and there she was, 20 yards away from me, paying for a go at the coconut shie. She looked even slimmer than I remembered her as a teenager. I thought at first that her short, spiky hair had turned prematurely grey;

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We buried Brennan on a typical July afternoon, hot and restless. Heavy, dark clouds hung overhead and the smell of rain was sharp and sweet. Mr. Kennedy, Patrick and my father dug Brennan's grave beside his father, mother and younger sister, spilling dark soil across the verdant grass. Father Landon stood at the head of the grave and read from his ancient bible.

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Each year they swept in, families of various sizes and ages from across the world. They came from the snow swept regions down to the tropics. Families came every year, looking for fun in the sun and to escape the cold winter season. I lived and worked in Aruba and enjoyed life here. The people of the island were tolerant and open minded.

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The morning is so bright and clear. The sounds of the birds playing in trees could reach me from where I'm sitting under a huge oak tree. The park is still not crowded as it's still early for most people to come out. The sound of the birds and the gentle breeze coming from the trees combined to put me in a peaceful mood, which is exactly what I need.

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I sat on the couch staring into the fire and feeling very content. A light snow was falling outside, making the small house feel even cozier. The only light in the room came from the flickering flames. It was a perfectly comfortable evening, one that I wished could last forever. And at this moment, in my mind, I knew it would.

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The air was alive with excitement as the Southwest passenger jet left the tarmac. My older sister, Alana, and I were seated together toward the back, huge grins on our faces as we looked out the window, watching the city lights drop away. It was a red eye flight that we had booked at the last second when we learned that our scheduled flight the next day would have to face a potential delay or cancellation because of a huge winter storm that was rolling in.

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