Your erotic stories

As Linda there on her bed, her mind began to wander. She had just gotten home from work, and had decided to lie down for a few minutes before starting dinner. And as she laid there, she started thinking about an amazing massage that she had gotten a few days ago, and the incredibly beautiful woman who had given it to her. This Lady Masseuse was new at the gym, and her name was Tina (or at least that was what it said on her name tag).

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This is a transcript of an actual e-mail 'conversation' I had with my good friend Rebecca. I've decided to publish it for your enjoyment -- it's too good to keep private. Then read my notes at the end. * Becky, my pussy is so warm and juicy this evening, don't you wish you could be here with me? I'd instruct you to make me a cafetiére of hot, strong coffee and bring it to me with a slab of dark chocolate.

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Saturday: I arrived at the address to collect the key for my holiday house in Spain. I knocked on the door and a young man answered. A very handsome young man! He was about twenty or twenty-one and had beautiful dark brown eyes, black hair and a deep suntan. "I'm Kay and I've come to collect the key for the holiday home I'm renting for the week." "Right," he said, looking me up and down, "I'll get my mother."

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"Are you still going out tonight?" Izzie asked Jane over a late breakfast. "Yes" Jane replied. "I'm meeting with a couple of friends, though I don't know where we are going, everywhere will be full of lovey-dovey couples. Bleurgh." Izzie couldn't help but smile at Jane who was feeling more than a bit sorry for herself having recently split from her fiancé.

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Chapter One – Thinking It Up Angela works as a receptionist at my office. She is a petite little thing weighing just over 100 pounds. She has the cutest little curves I have ever seen with full A-cup breasts and a tight little ass. She is ten years older than I am, but that doesn't stop our flirting. In fact, it may add to it. With her being older than I am, me being married, and her being engaged, our flirting always seemed like harmless fun.

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I have to admit that when I looked round the congregation at the Memorial Service I had to wonder. How many were there simply to pay tribute to a remarkable woman they had admired? How many were there with more intimate memories? The eulogy sketched in the public details of what had been a very public life.

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