Your erotic stories

It was a dark, calm, clear Friday night in May. Layla had just arrived at her friend Joy's house for a sleep over because they had not seen each other in quite a while. Joy lived towns away, so of course they did not attend the same school. They had kind of grown apart with time, but still very much enjoyed each other's company and would be eager to catch up on what was happening in each other's lives.

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Mark had moved in with his 19yr. old girlfriend, Donna, after the break up of his marriage. He was under no illusions that the relationship would last, but at 43 years of age he was thoroughly enjoying the unbridled sexual appetite of the teenager in the meantime. He was, as he readily admitted to himself, making hay while the sun shone! The main drawback was their rather cramped existence in the single room bed-sit on the second floor of what is delightfully known as a 'multiple-occupancy' house.

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It all started with a simple statement. A promise perhaps. They were laying in bed one night during the week after she had just come off of his lap from one of her good girl spankings and rewards she always craved. She looked up at him, a smile across her face and at that moment, he told her that he had something special planned for them this weekend.

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Harry stood outside of the shop shivering in the cold as he nonchalantly peeked in the windows building up the courage to enter the store. Acting as if her were waiting for someone he would wander away from the windows, glance at his watch and then wander back to the windows trying to decide exactly what he wanted to buy. Unfortunately, each time he saw a few interesting items, the window would begin to fog from his breath so he'd back out toward the street, look up and down the sidewalk and then glance at his watch.

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She first saw him working outside. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but it appeared he was checking some wires that connected to the back of the house. From a distance, she could see he wore a uniform of standard-issue work pants and a clean, collared shirt. His back was turned to her, giving her a nice view, and when he leaned down she scolded herself for letting her eyes travel downward. Brushing aside her wanton thoughts as the distractions to which she had only recently grown accustomed, she decided to ask him what he was doing, since it was her house he was kneeling behind.

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It had been a good 18 months following the death of my wife when I finally decided to place our house on the market; for being a large 4 bedroom property with over 12 acres of ground it was far to large for me to manage on my own. During our marriage the wife and I split the chores, she looked after the inside and I looked after the exterior and gardens, it was a system which worked very well until my wife became ill, from then on it was a struggle to maintain the standards we had set ourselves.

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I can't tell you what finally made me do it. I'd been thinking about it for weeks. At first it was just a wild fantasy, but as time went on, the fantasy turned into possibility, and from there into a plan. I knew my opportunity was going to be during Spring Break, but for the first several days I was stuck--just couldn't make a decision. It was all I could think about and I wasn't getting a lick of work done, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to do anything. Finally, something had to give.

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I walked down the hill on the west side Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown, crossing the C and O canal, and stopped outside the window of a small women's boutique. The window displays indicated a variety of fine clothing and accessory items, immaculately arranged and appointed, so I entered. A small bell attached to the door jingled, announcing a visitor.

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Several pictures of her were tucked into the sides of the mirror over his dresser. Most were school pictures, and one was of the two of them together, their arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling at the camera. My hand, holding the brush that I had picked up from amidst the clutter on his dresser, stopped in mid-air as I peered at those pictures.

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Summer was coming to a close, and Jason was about to start his final year of high school. All his life he had let his neurotic over-analytical nature control how he interacted with people. He had always put too much thought into everything, and as such had wasted his childhood. He believed he was unpopular, and therefore he was. With the social experience he had gained over the summer however: after having turned 18, going to parties, and fucking a busty young mall rat senseless, Jason was ready to improve his social standing. Life was finally a game he was ready to play.

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