Your erotic stories

I had been working at the store for a couple of months now. While I liked what I was doing – selling wine – overall I felt a bit disappointed. This was not where I saw myself as I turned another birthday. It's hard chasing your dreams, and it's hard when you have to take a job you don't really care for just for the money. But such is life sometimes.

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Bridgett was a single woman in her forties, tall and average looking; not one to stand out in a crowd, yet pretty in her own way. The chestnut hue of her hair with just a hint of auburn accentuated her mysterious lens-covered green eyes. Being a bit on the thick side she was never model material, but then again she never wanted to be and was happy with her appearance.

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I met Brian Carmichael in early July. I remember this because it was almost a week after my fifth birthday. I was in the driveway of our yard, playing with a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer that my Uncle Jake had bought me for my birthday. I looked up and saw a small black dog (a Labrador retriever, I later found out) run across our lawn. The dog wandered over to me, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

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Carly Adams walked her two children to the end of the cul-de-sac to catch the school bus. Her two young daughters, aged 10 and 12, had the good fortune of inheriting their mother's striking good looks. Having recently turned 37, the slim and sexy soccer mom was constantly mistaken for a much younger woman. Very petite, barely topping 5 feet tall, her jet black hair was styled in a classic concaved bob cut, parted on the side, long side bangs flowing down to curl erotically just under her jaw line.

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Mum put the telephone down and turning to me said, "Do you realize you haven't seen Aunt Emma for nearly two years?" "Is it that long?" I asked, glancing up from the book I was reading. "Yes, and she wonders why, she thinks she might have done something to offend you; has she?" "No, I just haven't got around to visiting her and it's a damned long trek out there -- the far flung outposts of..."

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I prefer older women. Or to be politically correct, "mature" women. I'll take a "mature" woman in her 40s or 50s any day over someone who is younger. Why? My experience has been that mature women are more comfortable with their bodies. They are more open to receiving and giving sexual pleasure and are more open to sexually adventuresome activities like lots of oral, role playing, anal, and if you are lucky, you can find a mature women that is open to threesomes and more, if you know what I mean.

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'Knock...knock...knock'. Melanie put her book down and answered the front door. "Hi...Mrs. Barton," the good looking teenager asked, "Is Warren in?" "Ehm no," she smiled when she recognised her son's best-friend Lee Clark or Clarkie as he was known to his friends, "he's at work but shouldn't be long; do you want to come in and wait?" "Yeh thanks." He mumbled and wiped his trainers on the door mat as he followed the slim woman into the living room.

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Chapter One "Evan, Mr. Franklin would like to see you if you're available." "I'm on my way, Francine." Evan hung up the phone, grabbed his notebook and ran up the back stairs to Francine's door. As he caught his breath he made sure his shirt was tucked in and his tie was straight and brushing his hair back with his left hand opened the door and went in.

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I didn't wake up that morning expecting anything exciting to happen. Who does? It was just one of those days when you feel a little better than usual. Time seemed to run so slow as I got ready for work. I wore one of my favorite outfits. A light blue button shirt and a dark skirt. The shirt brought out my blue eyes and the skirt showed off my legs. It was not too short, I was a teacher after all, but it did end just above my knees and I was able to show off my summer tan. I put my long blonde hair up in a ponytail that ended in the middle of my back.

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I woke up to the sound of someone pounding on my front door. I cracked open one bleary eye and checked the clock. Two in the goddamn morning. I wondered who the hell it could be this late at night. I'd just spent the past week putting in overtime at the office. There was a major client project going down, and while I wasn't team lead I did have a major part to play. That meant a lot of late nights and early mornings.

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