Your erotic stories

My friends had suggested I needed a vacation. It had been nearly two years since my jerkface shitwad ex-husband had walked out on me and the kids. I had worn myself ragged trying to keep up with all the schedules, homework and extra-curriculars, then trying to keep up with my own job - forget trying to have a life of my own.

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Most of my stories seem to be about love, romance, and hot sex. I guess that's because, there's just not much call for stories about hate, violence, and loathing. You'd think, I would get bored with it all after a while, but the fertile soil of my dirty old mans brain, keeps coming up with new ideas. Here's the latest one, let's see where it goes.

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I was standing in front of my tiny, jumbled closet looking in vain for suitable clothes to take to New Orleans. It had been sooo easy down in the Caribbean because all I needed was a couple pieces of floss to wear over my itty bitty titties and Brazilian waxed coochie. Rich, poor, who knew when you're half naked and dripping wet?

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After three days of the sales conference, Steve was sick. Sick of giant pieces of paper stuck to the wall covered with vague, ridiculous words regarding goals and mission, sick of pointless team building exercise but mostly sick of long evenings spent with amateur drinkers who felt free to let loose, particularly since they were far away from home in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

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