Your erotic stories

I suppose it started with my thirty-ninth Birthday. But firstly I had better give some background information. My husband and I separated some seven years ago, and as he now works overseas I have rarely even been in contact with him since. Owen, my son, and his twin sister, Chloe, have recently turned eighteen and will both be going to Teacher Training College in September, so they are still at school at present, as is Owen's girl-friend, although there seems nothing serious there as yet

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MATH TEACHER, MRS. ROGERS I was adopted by a loving couple and raised in a small town in Northeast Ohio. When I was 18 years old in high school, I developed a strong interest in math mainly because I had a very good teacher, Mrs. Pauline Rogers, who also was an attractive lady: about 5'2" and 120 lb, blonde, firm boobs, and slim legs. When ever I was close to her, I tried to inhale her intoxicating perfume. I worked hard to please her, who I guessed was about 35 years old. In turn, she was glad to have one male student interested in learning math. There were rumors that Mr.

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Bridgett was a single woman in her forties, tall and average looking; not one to stand out in a crowd, yet pretty in her own way. The chestnut hue of her hair with just a hint of auburn accentuated her mysterious lens-covered green eyes. Being a bit on the thick side she was never model material, but then again she never wanted to be and was happy with her appearance.

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It was going to be a long day, as Saturdays usually were. The weather was beautiful outside, which made me all the more bitter for being stuck at work. Library patrons always seemed more demanding on Saturday afternoons and doubly so on nice ones. They'd simply wave and beckon on me to attend to their needs. A dude has a to have a pretty strong stomach to deal with some of these people. The homeless people and the whores are always hooking up in this place.

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It's funny, how as a kid you tend to see things so totally different from the reality in which they are. Only when you're confronted with those same memories years later do you really understand the misconceptions we all place on them. It was how I remembered Mabel, though back then as a kid, we all teasingly called her, Maybelline. Growing up right next door as a child, I very often made a little extra money back then doing odd jobs such as pulling weeds or mowing the lawn for Mabel and her husband, "Old man Jack" as we had likewise labeled him.

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I met Brian Carmichael in early July. I remember this because it was almost a week after my fifth birthday. I was in the driveway of our yard, playing with a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer that my Uncle Jake had bought me for my birthday. I looked up and saw a small black dog (a Labrador retriever, I later found out) run across our lawn. The dog wandered over to me, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

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"Thanks for coming in, Jenny. We'll be back in touch with you." And with those words, I figured that was all I'd ever hear about the summer job I'd just interviewed for. I'd spent half the morning getting ready to meet the manager of Dustee's, the little clothing boutique at the mall where I'd put in my application. And in about five minutes, the interview was over!

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My friend Gail came home from work one day, entering the backyard through the gate as she usually did when she heard people in the pool. She expected to see her daughter. Dena, and some friends lounging or swimming. That is basically what she saw, but there was also something she never expected. Paul was standing between two lounge chairs where Dena and her friend Lana sat laughing and staring. Gail immediately saw what they were staring at.

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Carly Adams walked her two children to the end of the cul-de-sac to catch the school bus. Her two young daughters, aged 10 and 12, had the good fortune of inheriting their mother's striking good looks. Having recently turned 37, the slim and sexy soccer mom was constantly mistaken for a much younger woman. Very petite, barely topping 5 feet tall, her jet black hair was styled in a classic concaved bob cut, parted on the side, long side bangs flowing down to curl erotically just under her jaw line.

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Chapter 1 I hadn't set out to do it. I had never thought about it or planned such a thing. It just wasn't me, it was not my thing, well it had never been until then. Something must have changed, but was it with me, was it circumstances or what?

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