Your erotic stories

"I don't think I'll be able to attend tonight's committee meeting. My damn husband is out of town again and I can't find a babysitter." I was standing behind two attractive women in the grocery store's express check-out. "Amy, you have to come. You've done all the work to date and we need the project to remain on track." "I know . . . I know. I'll make a few more calls and see if I can find a sitter."

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I had been doing back to back sessions lately, playing pedal steel and six string for a lot of artists. I worked on an album for this new singer named Bobby Riggs, who was being touted by some of the music people in Nashville as a possible next big sensation in the C & W biz.

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The opportunity that I hadn't really been looking for happened totally by accident, and certainly not by design. I had the hots for my best mates mother, and had had them for as long as I can remember, I had known him and her for 12 years. I had always been in love with her, it was her ways, her movements, the way she was. I was utterly besotted with her all my life, I hung on every word.

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"You get a line, and I'll get a pole, and we'll go fishing in the crawdad hole..." The chorus of young voices finally faded out as Nicole, her two sisters, and their seven kids made it back to camp from their fishing spot on the lake. Despite the still early hour, the heat was already oppressive. Fortunately, there was an easy cure for that.

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I was sitting on the back porch of my wife's uncle's house in western Nebraska, enjoying the sun and unseasonably warm temperature along with a cold beer and a cigar. It was Saturday afternoon and we'd been out hunting pheasant since early that morning but, after lunch, my father-in-law and his brothers had decided a power nap was in order. I decided instead to take advantage of perhaps my last opportunity for a few months to sit outside in just cargo pants and a t-shirt.

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College classes are bad enough without falling behind. Between the sheer volume of classes and my work obligations that barely covered my living expenses, it was inevitable that something would give. Biology became the threatened species of my class load. Mrs. Gail Hannity was my Biology instructor. Smart, precise, and really quite beautiful, it was entirely possible that she was a major contributor to my in-class distraction.

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Rebecca watched the last of the trick-or-treaters head down the street and checked the clock. With the official hours over, she turned out the porch light and put down the bowl, resisting the urge to indulge with one of the few remaining pieces of candy. She took off her witch hat and shook out a wealth of dark hair, trying not to think about the few strands of gray that she refused to dye — yet.

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The phone rang as Keith just finished telling me he loved me. It was Susie. "Hi, Nancy," said Susie. "How's it going?" "Fine," I replied smiling at Keith while pointing to a picture of Susie and me in a framed picture. "Are you dating anyone, Nancy? Bill has this great friend I'd like to set you up with," stated Susie. "Oh, that's so nice of you, Susie," I replied imagining what kind of bore her set-up would be. "But, I'm really busy at work and traveling a lot which wouldn't be fair to Bill's friend right now. Maybe another time."

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There is a framed, color photograph resting on one of the built-in shelves in the living room of my 5th floor apartment. Everyone who visits me here in downtown Baltimore pauses to pick it up and look. There are nine bare-chested guys in the photo, all in their late teens or early 20s, standing beside each other, outstretched arms over arms, on a bright sunny beach, their backs to the Atlantic surf. They are all thick, hard-muscled and deeply tanned. And all wearing identical fire-engine red swim trunks with the words "Kill Devil Hills Lifeguard Service" emblazoned on the right leg.

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Feeling very nervous as she stood backstage with the others, Diana Watson had so many butterflies in her stomach by then that she was deathly afraid that she might throw up ay any moment. Uncomfortably squeezed into her very best dress - one that she had not worn for many years, since before a sedentary life added more than a few extra pounds to her once slender figure - Diana had to work hard to resist the impulse to run a restive hand through the hair she'd had professionally coiffed at the beauty parlor earlier that day.

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