Your erotic stories

With every stitch of her clothing saturated to the skin and every fiber of her being chilled to the bone by the driving and frigid January rain, Donna Mitchell's mind was comprised of only one thought: A stiff drink sure would be wonderful! Though it had been six months since Donna had her last drink of alcohol before joining AA, she could still taste the crisp and clean bite of an icy cold Budweiser sliding down her throat.

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Megan sat across from her sister seething with anger but controlling her emotions so as not to add to the crying hysterics. "Oh Megan! How could he? I thought he loved me!" Crystal sobbed. "I know it took a while for us to have a baby. But now that I am pregnant he decides to fool around?! What am I going to do?"

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I was on a business trip to Pittsburgh. Grad school was in the rear view mirror. With it came another promotion, more money, and more travel. I particularly didn't care for the travel part. It meant time away from Julia, who, God knows, is busy enough with her own work. C.F.O. It still brought a smile to my face when I thought of my wife and her job. Three glorious years -- that's how long we've been married.

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The Cayman Islands were so beautiful this time of year, and the weather was really perfect. Much better than in the heat and humidity of the summer. Or so Christina had been told by the hotel staff, anyway. The weather was great, true...a nice cool breeze came in right off that perfect azure-blue glassy sea, and it blew through her hair as she sat quietly at the outdoor hotel bar.

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Winter was lingering here on the mount, we'd had rain two days earlier and a freak thaw and this morning, the air reeked of snow. I lay in my bed in my little shack, the smell of breakfast coming through the walls on the smoke from the house. For a moment, I simply wanted to go back to sleep, but I had work to do today, traps to check and trails to walk.

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"Happy Fucking Birthday to me!" I thought to myself. If only I knew at that moment just how happy my fifty-second birthday was truly going to be. But as I took my regular afternoon jog through Meyer Park in the northwest suburbs of Houston, Texas; my mind was a swirling mess of self-pity, loneliness and sexual frustration. My husband and I had been divorced for nearly four years, all three of my children were either grown and gone or away visiting their father for the summer and I hadn't gotten a good piece of ass in what seemed like decades.

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I'd inherited a house I had never seen, in a land I had never been to, from a relative I had never met. It was fortunate, plus or minus the un was still to be seen. The house stood solitary, proud and ram shackled, near the edge of the sheer, steep cliffs. No it didn't look foreboding; however it didn't look welcoming either. This was to be my new home?

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Roger Calkins turned the red Corvette off the rural highway onto the gravel road leading to his grandparents' house, his wife Anita seated beside him. He was looking forward to spending the Christmas and New Year's holidays with his family, however Anita was not. Oh, everyone was pleasant enough and glad to see her, but she missed her own family in the Czech Republic. She had met Roger at a café in Paris where she was studying Art History at the Sorbonne and he was working at the United States Embassy in Paris.

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Annabelle's cotton sheets have ducks on them. They're not made of as nice of a material as the satin I'm laying on now, but the ducks are so cute and so her. I can imagine Annabelle's face when she'd determined that I stood her up on New Year's Eve. I feel so horrible and so cold.

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Before I begin this tale I must tell you, this is not another one of those Cinderella stories, life, as I've learned, is hardly a fairy tale. Besides, I would look really bad in a dirty white, raggedy dress. I wasn't born to a step mother with two evil step sisters, I'm hardly prince charming and I sure ain't the fairy godmother. I'm just me; plain old me. I guess I should start at the beginning so things don't turn out backwards. Yes, life hasn't been a walk in the park for me, nor was I born with a golden spoon in my mouth, more like a pitiful request for a morsel of food.

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