Your erotic stories

Several years ago, my wife and I vacationed in Europe for two weeks. I knew that Europeans tend to be more casual about nudity and sex than Americans are, but I was still unprepared (as was my wife) when we decided to visit a spa (called "bad") in Germany. We took a tram up the side of a steep hill to the top and looked down over a beautiful view and a large pool with an even larger deck. "Oh my God," my wife exclaimed as she saw that almost all of the women were lying topless on the deck or soaking that way in the pool.

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It was hot, hot and sweaty, far too hot for housework and in fact just the sort of day to take advantage of Adam's new six foot tall privacy fencing and do a spot of nude sunbathing on the lawn. Nikki needed to top up her tan anyway for when they went on holiday next month, so it wasn't as if she'd be wasting the day.

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"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back." With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.

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Chapter One "Damn!" I swore. "How could a person get lost going back to their own hometown?" I hadn't bothered with maps except to get near the right area. I figured I would remember the way once in the vicinity. I should have known better. I had definitely not inherited my mom's knack for finding where she was going. In fact, I would call myself geographically challenged.

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