Your erotic stories

MaryAnn was completely engrossed in her notes from that morning's seminar. A glass of wine sat on the table, but that was mostly an excuse to occupy a table. Her reverie was broken by the waitress who sat another glass of Chablis in front of her and announced, "From the gentleman over there." "Damn it," she thought. "Why can't I sit here in peace? Just because I'm a woman all by myself in a hotel bar doesn't mean I'm a hooker or an out of town housewife on the prowl."

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The snow storm was getting worse. It was about ten miles to the next town and I began to wonder if I would make it. The Ford F250 I am driving is four wheel drive, but even the big truck was having a hard time staying on the road. The snow storm was almost blizzard like and there were short periods of white out. These conditions made visibility minimal at best. I literally couldn't see much more than thirty feet in front of the truck. I had slowed to five mph trying to stay on the road.

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Mr. David was in his second year of teaching Band and things were not going well. The previous band teacher had been very old, and band in High School was never really the cool thing to do, so he was having a really hard time getting kids to be in his Marching Band. He had brought in outside help in the form of one of his friends from a marching band corps, but still things were not going well.

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Ok, so here's the deal. My name is Marissa Adams, I'm 18 years old and I am a maid at a hotel/casino in Las Vegas. I'm not complaining, pay's good, my co-workers are great and I meet very interesting people and a few stars. Just last week Shaq was staying in the NBA Suite. But that's no where near the best part of my perfect job.

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I was at university at the time, and like all students I was finding money very hard to come by, not having rich parents, and not getting along with my mother. She had wanted me to marry this nice lad, but he wasn't for me. I was doing media studies, public relations, and arts. I thought I had the looks to get on in those fields. I had done some modelling when I was a bit younger, so I thought I might be able to get into that.

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I remember one summer when I went out to the ranch of my friend Amanda's uncle. This was her father's youngest brother, making him around 40 at the time. We had just finished our third year of college and we were borderline ADD from the joy of completing our finals. We drove up on a hot, hot day in late April, and by the time we arrived at the ranch both of us were covered in sweat and dust.

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I'm in my late fifties. Pretty good-looking, I'm told and still in pretty good shape, thank you very much. I live in Bridgehampton, New York, right in the center of the 'Fabulous Hamptons' resort area. I live here year 'round and unlike the eclectic billionaires that comprise my neighborhood, I don't go to the fancy parties and fundraisers, horse shows or designer shops. Don't get me wrong, I love the style and artistic nature of the place, bumping into the super-famous on the street and dining on the best food.

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Ever had a co-worker you wanted to fuck so badly it almost hurt? I think that's fairly common, especially for men of my age and experience. But to have that coworker admit they feel the same makes it much more interesting. Add to that a 20plus age gap and endless creativity, and going to work can be almost dangerous.

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I've done something appalling, something that I have tried to stop doing but can't. No matter how severely I berate myself with a vow never to repeat my actions in moments of remorse, I can't resist such an overwhelming power. It's not lust; lust is such a puny word when I compare it to the wash of sheer, irresistible craving that I feel.

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My wife's daughter came to visit for the holidays. It's a second marriage for both of us; she has two kids by a previous marriage, and I have three. Susan, her daughter, is in her late twenties and has never married. She's had a few close calls, but for one reason or another, things just never seemed to work out.

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