Your erotic stories

The young waiter smiled and felt his pants tighten and his bulge tingle as the two women emerged from the tennis courts to sit at one of his tables of the hotel's outdoor bar slash café. Nice, he thought. I'd love to give either one of them a fuck before I go home tonight. Maybe both.

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"My sweet Lord," I heard her whisper under her breath, as I framed her face with my hand, and gently turned her to look me in the eye. "Shh," I hushed, my face inches from hers, "don't speak." I curled my lips over hers, my bottom lip gliding into her mouth. I settled in closer, my other hand sliding down her arm to lace our fingers together.

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"You are joking. Please tell me you're joking?" I doubted my mother understood the desperation in my voice, but I was disgusted and disappointed. How could she do this? "I'm not joking Chris." My Mom was still calm, oblivious to reality as usual. "I told Megan to call you. She'll be in town next week and I thought it would be wonderful if you could take her to dinner. It's not like you have this busy social life and you can't fit her in. You're always telling me that you don't get out enough."

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One summer afternoon, April Price waited stoically in line at the check stand in the small, upscale supermarket where she bought most of her groceries. The old woman in front of her had a whole cartful, so April passed the time by looking at the covers of the array of fan magazines on display. When all the old woman's purchases had been rung up and bagged and paid for, the checker asked her the question he asked all customers.

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Let's start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood. The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda. The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, "You're single?" The customer grins and nods his head. "You can tell by my meal, huh?" And the girl says, "No, you're fuckin' ugly." It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.

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I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.

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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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