Your erotic stories

I love my life. I don't know if this happens to other people but I have a recurring theme in my life where past experiences come back, not to haunt me, but to enrich my life even further. My life is not without pain and tragedy, to be sure, but I think I am blessed with good fortune nonetheless. This story is an unexpected continuation of another tale of mine, "A Night at Karen's House," and I suggest you read the original first.

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Attorney at Law, K. Anderson never smiled. In fact, she never showed much emotion at all. Stoic. Poker face. She was rumored to be cold hearted and vicious. Whether she actually was or not, ultimately was irrelevant. She was one of the most powerful attorneys this side of the Mississippi river, a senior partner in one of the most influential law firms in the country, Benter, Johnson, Anderson and Holgate. She had everything money could buy, though she never struck him as the flashy type.

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Karen March 2001 I first encountered Miss Chapman at school. She was the home economics teacher and a guidance teacher too. Teachers tended to view me as a generally intelligent pupil who inexplicably did stupid things to get in trouble occasionally. One such occasion when I was in my second last year resulted in me waiting to be called into Ms Chapman's office for trying to play truant that afternoon.

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Katie turned twenty one right before Spring Break of this past year, and I was sure she was going to go to Fort Lauderdale or some equally alcohol drenched beach resort with her friends, after all, that's what I did when I was 21 and in college. But instead, my little girl called me up a few weeks before and said she was coming home to see me and she was bringing her girlfriend.

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For most people, a time comes, sometime along the way, where they find themselves in an economic jam. Something happens, something comes up, something goes amiss, and extra money is needed to fix it. Things like this can happen to even the most careful and responsible planners. Like Tara Smith.

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Like I said, I was sitting at this slot machine, more or less blindly pushing the buttons and listening to it go "Clank clank clank." I like that one machine, it is 3 bucks a push of the button, it has the 5 times pay things and if I manage to get two of them it's 25 times pay which is a pretty good chunk of change if it ever pays off. The last reel respins, too, that is fun but the first two reels have to be lined up first.

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Retirement has many compensations! The opportunity to take holidays at any time I fancy is one I rate highly. This is the story about a recent enjoyable break. I recently spent Christmas away in a lovely city centre hotel in Bath in the English West Country. What a beautiful town, relaxing, full of history and incredibly photogenic! On Boxing Day I took my camera out to enjoy this photogenic place. When I returned to the warmth of the hotel I witnessed an unusual confrontation at the reception desk.

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My name is Michael - family and friends call me Mike. At that time I considered myself an unremarkable 23 year-old, English WASP with a degree in psychology and a post-graduate certificate in education. I was working through my last summer before starting teaching in a secondary school near my old home town. I was brought up with the 'protestant work ethic' and had always had a job of some description as I went through my further and higher education.

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Serena McGuire hated boats; that was all there was to it. The rolling beneath her feet, the closed confinement. Even the sea air bothered her, although it never had before. Of course, she had been on a beach then. But the combination now had her stomach rolling along with the waves of the ocean. Her best friend, Isabel Trecher, instructed her that if she would actually spend some time on the deck, instead of in their cabin (which happened to be on the lowest deck, complete with two beds, one dresser, and no window), she would feel much better. Probably, Serena mused, because she would be as liquored up as Isabel is.

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I was already bored with my 'date' from the night before, the prototypical one-nighter with a nurse from Clifton Park who chain-smoked like a runaway locomotive. As Apollo Creed once told Rocky Balboa,"Ain't gonna be no rematch." Rocky, of course, grunted back, "Don't want one." So, in all fairness, I'm sure the feeling was mutual. We both got what we wanted, that's what makes a one-nighter a one-nighter, right?

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