Your erotic stories

You are finally coming into town. You said for business, but I don't care what the reason, I am just glad to finally see you. I race to meet you at the restaurant. There are butterflies in my stomach. We have chatted and talked on the phone for so long now. So much flirting and longing to be with you. When I arrive at the restaurant, I see your truck is already there, and I start to feel a little better. When I get inside, I scan the room for you, and see you stand up and motion me over to your table. You've been keeping an eye out for me and you smile as I get close to the table.

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"What about those two? They look positively scrumptious," Dani whispered to me as we took in the warm Caribbean sunrays, lounging on the beach of our resort in our cabana chairs. Those 'two' were a couple of college-aged guys with ripped abs, bulging speedos and most certainly, cougar-worthy.

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When Jenny and Allen moved in next door I thought they were the ideal couple. They at 32 were about 25 years younger than I, he tall, about 6ft 2in, blonde good looking, she around 5ft 5in slim, a tumble of soft brown curly hair, a face that lit up when she smiled and an effervescent personality; a typical Australian couple.

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Cal Benton turned his Honda CL350 off Interstate 70 at the exit that said "Sawtooth Mountain, 10 miles," and stopped the bike on the overpass looking back toward Denver. Only 50 miles to the west, he was already well into the front range of the majestic Rocky Mountains. He sat silently staring back toward the plains, reveling in the snow-capped peaks and vast valleys that spread behind him.

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In April 2004 my husband announced that his 25 year old secretary was 6 months pregnant and he was leaving me and our two daughters to be with her. Apparently I'd become boring and had put on weight – no longer the slim nymphomaniac that he had married 21 years previously. To say that I was devastated would be somewhat of an understatement. I thought that I'd been as good a mother and wife as I could be while also holding down a career as an accountant with a pretty large clothing company.

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Jasmine couldn't remember the last time she had felt so desirable. It had been at least 6 or 7 years since her husband had shown any sort of affection, and both of the short-lived affairs she had engaged in, had done nothing to quell the longing within her. She was a 44 year old woman who had started to believe that by accepting the twin positions of wife and mother, she no longer had the right to be looked upon as a sexual being.

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I first met her in High School and like most High School friends we lost touch over the years, about 40 of them to be exact. We got back in touch on one of the Class Reunion sites and started talking again. Reliving old memories as we laughed at the silly way we dressed and hairstyles and such. It was a great pleasure to become new friends with her once again.

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Karl stared at the phone in his hand after flipping it closed. "Well this might be an interesting trip home after all," was the statement he made to the air in his empty living room. He had just finished up a three hour long, catch-up conversation with someone from his past. Someone he had shared more than just a dorm room and later a frat house double with at college. Much more. Much, much more.

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Nikki loved her job at the diner, although the pay was light and the hours heavy. She knew most of her customers by name, and counted most of them as friends. She also knew that their off-color comments, while generally sexual in nature, were delivered with no offense intended. Her breasts were a modest b-cup, and she often wished they were larger, but her ass made up the difference. It was an ass that men's dreams were made of.

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For those of you who haven't yet run across it, there is a web page whose name shall remain anonymous which advertises itself with this logo (which I've paraphrased to maintain the anonymity): "Where Models meet Photographers". So, basically, the web site is patronized by gorgeous models, the lucky bastards that photograph them, and lurkers. I haven't modeled since baby pictures at Sears, I don't own a camera that's not a disposable, so that puts me squarely in the 'lurker' category. Hey, it's a hobby.

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