Your erotic stories

When I saw Mrs. Crowley at the supermarket I had to smile. The woman who worked down the hall from me looked as good in her recreation clothing as she did in her business attire. That was quite a compliment, because she was always impeccable with her work clothing. Prim and proper, nothing out of place, everything put together quite nicely.

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Jenni Adams parked her rusted pickup behind the Harper house and killed the engine, sat at the wheel as an east wind brought rain over the steep shingle roof and drove it hard against the windshield. The surf would be big today and she anticipated a fight getting through the waves. She wanted this moment to last, sitting perfectly still, letting the urge to swim build inside, the anticipation almost sexual. For Jenni, a lot of things were almost sexual.

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I am Frank Stokes, 64 years old, retired from an executive position in a large corporation. My wife of 35 years passed away 3 years ago. I live in Brentwood, a golfing community, in the Atlanta area. There are three 18 hole golf courses. One easy course, one a little more difficult and the third, for experts, more difficult. Lots of sand traps, water and longer. I play the middle course.

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About 3 years ago I had an experience that changed my life. I only regret that it did not happen when I was much younger. I was then a 68 year old woman and had been a widow for 12 years. During this time I had no real relationships and certainly no sexual ones. My name is Victoria. As I live by myself one could imagine that this would be lonely and unsatisfying but I gain enough satisfaction from my work and family who visit me about once a month. I work as a tourist guide in the city.

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"Half an hour to go," I thought. We closed at six o'clock on Fridays, and I was definitely ready to go home. It had been a long week at the shoe store where I worked. Michelle, the owner, had decided to hold a big summer sale to try to boost the business. It's hard for a small boutique store to compete with the big chains, so I understood the need, but it had been a crazy week. Michelle did a good job promoting the sale.

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Memory triggers. They come rushing at you when you least suspect them. You can walk into a house and take in the heady aroma of a cake being baked and you'll be transported back to your grandmother's kitchen. You can smell an empty beer bottle and suddenly there you are playing hide and seek behind a pile of your uncle's empties. Smell is our most powerful sense and we all have a repertoire of aromatic triggers nicely tucked away in that gluggy grey mass we call a brain.

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CHAPTER 1 Brown haired and green-eyed Guy Meadows was left confused when seeking to find is the optimum age to marry because the opinions varied widely. He settled on twenty-eight and planned accordingly. He studied hard at college and emerged with a masters in business administration and after settling into permanent employment upgraded that to an MBA. By the time he was twenty-seven Guy was director of operations for a company that manufactured, imported and distributed LP gas and electric grills and barbecues.

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About two weeks after my sensuous and successful aptitude test with 'Manon', the company which provided discreet escorts for ladies. I was contacted by Ron Vincent, who told me to call at the office the following evening as he had my first client. I had already spent some time with Ron, getting a few pointers on what would be expected of me. He also had me fitted out with a couple of outfits, a smart dark blue suit and a more casual jacket and pants, with shirts to match.

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Eva looked out her bedroom window. She had heard the gate to her driveway being opened. It was Jim, the son of her best friends Alice and Mike, arriving to mow her lawn. Eva was a fifty five year old widow, living alone on the outskirts of a small college town. Her husband Eddy had passed away three years previous. Eva was only now beginning to pick up her life following the death of her soul mate. God knows what would have happened to her without the support of her friends and their son Jim.

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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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