Your erotic stories

Alex had Devin pinned on the bed, finally! Her long slender legs were pinned between his, and he held her arms above her head by her wrists. He looked down at the woman beneath him. She lay flat on her back with her hair wild all around her head on the pillow, almost like a halo. Her face flushed a pretty shade of pink, her eyes dancing with mischief, and a stunning smile on her lips.

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Last year, I attended my cousin Stephanie's wedding and the entire family turned out to celebrate the occasion. A solo attendee, I wanted to bring Lenka; in fact she was more than eager to go with me... I thought my father's relatives were stuffy and dry, especially the older matrons. I was comfortable with my sexuality but would they be accepting?

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When I write my stories, I am concerned with one an only one thing - trying to create a mood of tenderness and longing. Sometimes I probably over do it. And I end up getting into such heightened state, I get really worked-up - and I write most of the really "haunted" love stuff when I am right on the edge. When I re-read my stories, I can tell that parts were created in that shaky mind space.

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"You're kidding? Right?" my ex-husband Alan asked incredulously. "Now, why would I kid about that?" I returned the question with annoyance. Alan was temporarily speechless and I could hear him fumbling for the right words. "I'm telling you because when you pick up Alana, Valerie might be there and I want you to be cordial," I stated firmly.

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I'm sitting here wondering what tomorrow will bring. My stomach has been hurting me for months and I finally made a doctor's appointment. I must admit I'm a little scared. Cancer is too dominant in today's society. Maybe I just have a stomach problem. Time will tell. I'm a sixty-three year old man who has been married for forty-two of those years. My wife is now sixty-six.

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"When a person does not give up on sex, sex does not give up on the person." (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) Tania sat on an air mattress beneath the old apricot tree that was one of the trees that constituted the orchard part of the garden. Beyond the orchard and screened from her sight by a high brush fence was the swimming pool from which emanated the cries, squeals and laughter of the young people, Peter, her son's friends.

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The early morning sun began to shine brightly through our bedroom window- waking me up. I wasn’t much of a morning person until the first morning you and I woke up in each other’s arms. After that, I grew to love mornings. Our mornings were special. It was the one time of the day where we actually got to hold each other close and not be in a big hurry. All the cuddling and whispering as we each wake up. Except this morning, I woke up too late.

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I suppose trouble follows me because I look for it, but sometimes (more often than not) I find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time (or as I would say, the right place at the right time). Such was the case on New Year's Eve.

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My friend Jason had come a long way to visit me in Annapolis. The drive from northern Maine took him well over 14 hours and he had been exhausted. He said the trip had done him good. The driving had given him a lot of time to think about the events of the last few weeks when his wife left him for another man.

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