Your erotic stories

On the evening following my 23rd birthday I headed over to Danielle's house. I had met Danielle through my girlfriend, Janie. Actually, my ex-girlfriend. I say my ex-girlfriend because the day before, on my birthday, I drove to Janie's house for my "Happy Birthday rough and wild monkey sex" (my words, not hers). When I got to her house I knocked on the door and it swung open a bit. I poked my head in the door and called out "Hello!" and nobody answered.

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Robyn sat alone on the railing of the massive sun deck and heaved a sigh of general discontent. Attending the engagement party of a fellow college alum while accompanied by your own future mother-in-law was certainly not her idea of a hot summer Saturday at the Jersey shore. Robyn had never been one of those young women to revel in these 'girlie-girl' type celebrations, anyway, although Robyn herself wore a nearly two-carat diamond engagement ring on her own left hand.

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I felt so evil! Here, a forty-seven year old woman, watching the young men dance at the bachelorette party, I couldn't take my eyes off their cocks, so long and hard! Fran, my best friend, invited me to her daughter's wedding and shower, and I got hoodwinked into this, too. A Saturday night out, with all these twenty-somethings, and us two old biddies!

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I usually don't meet people off line, but after several hot chats with this charming young man, he convinced me it was about time I spent a little less time on the net talking about my fantasies and a little more time on my back fulfilling them.

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Life in the detective bureau was anything but routine. Everyday there were new challenges. Crime never stops. My day began at 8:30 am. I usually stopped off on the way to work to pick up coffee and some form of breakfast for myself and for the rest of the detectives, as well as the Chief. One of my duties was a review of the crime reports filed by the uniform division during the previous 24 hours. Cops often were not skilled writers. It was my job to review their reports for accuracy and completeness.

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Mike parked in the driveway and walked up the front stairs and through the door. As he opened it, he found the house in silence, as it usually was. Where Debbie, his girlfriend was, was anyone's guess; he supposed that Jennie, Debbie's eighteen year old daughter, was out with friends. He smiled absently, thinking to himself that everything was just as it should be.

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I was in Los Angeles on business and one day I was in Century City for a business conference and when we broke for lunch I headed for a restaurant I'd heard about. I was walking down the street when something slammed into my shoulder and I heard a voice say: "Watch where you're going asshole." I turned and saw a guy standing there looking at me and smiling. It took me about half a second to recognize Bill Gibson and I stepped to him and took him in a big bear hug.

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A flip of a switch filled the yard with colored lights. Regina smiled while watching the spruce trees lining the sidewalk appear to spin. She didn't care that chasing lights were out of style — she liked them. Curtain lights, icicle lights, LEDs... The trend changed every year anyway. Turning around, she sighed. It was hard to get into the spirit in an empty house. The loss of her dad five years earlier had started it, followed by her mother the following year, and then the divorce.

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The first time my next door neighbor Richard screwed me I was pissed. He borrowed my lawn mower a couple times, never returning it with a full tank of gas but always remembering not to clean the machine. Okay, you don't get to pick your neighbors, but he could have shown a little courtesy. It got worse a few weeks later when he "borrowed' it without asking and proceeded to ruin the blade by attempting to cut through some dense overbrush in the back part of his yard.

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"Passion rules us all," someone once said. "And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments." And I know, in my time with Alexandra, these are some of those finest moments. Also, the most terrifying. Summer. New Orleans. She and I are facing each other, lying on a bed in our second-story room at a small European-like pension.

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