Your erotic stories

Linda's mother had been spectacular, so much so that I practically forgot about Linda. We kept seeing each other, but when I was with her I found myself thinking about her Mom. After all, it was an competition of sorts. While the 18 year old Linda had the advantage of youth and was more classically attractive than her mother, Millie had experience and the fact that a 50 year old woman found me desirable was a boost to my ego.

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I think The Kingston Trio said it first. But then Frank Sinatra said it more eloquently, moving it from a major key to a minor key. 'When I was twenty one, it was a very good year. A very good year for city girls who lived up the stairs.' And, yes, not only did the city girls live up the stairs, but they also - as Frank observed - had 'perfumed hair'. (Hairspray, I presume.) And it did come undone - the hair, that is - when I was 21. But we'll get to that in a moment or two.

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"Really, Sidonie," I said. "I didn't come to New Orleans just so I could help you keep your kinfolk in order!" My friend from college days grinned at me, lifting a rake through her big chestnut hair. Gavin, her husband, sat on the bed patiently channel-surfing while she finished getting gussied up for their evening out on the town. She was dressed in a red satin shirt, black leather pants and Doc Martens, and Gavin was equally street- and party-ready, although far less dramatic, in chinos and a polo shirt.

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"Tom, I'm happy you're home from college for the summer, but we just can't give you money anymore like we used to. We need every dollar we have, and if you have the chance to earn some on your own, even if it's just a day job, you have to take it." "Mom, this isn't a job. This is...labor." "It's $100, and all you have to do is spend a few hours boxing up some stuff and taking out trash.

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Greg finally found his right new home. It was at the right size, right price, and a quiet neighbourhood, the place where he can quietly concentrate his home business. At 28, he was an ambitious young man. The next door neighbour was a couple most probably in their fifties. The man called Tom was a cold man who would pull a long face when coming across people. What sort of woman would fall in love with this kind of man, Greg thought.

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This story takes place in the summer of my 19th year. I had returned to my hometown after an accident which had left me hospitalized for two months. Upon returning I needed to determine a direction for my life. I had enlisted in the army and was awaiting my active duty date in late 1969 when the accident happened. The damage to my body was sufficient to cancel my enlistment and give me a get home free pass from Uncle Sam’s party in Viet Nam. While many of my friends had suffered as a result of that war, I was not sorry that I did not have to go.

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Ah yes, she's here again - the girl. I've been watching her for several weeks now. She and her friends hang out at the pool where I live. Several of them must be sub-letting for the summer because there's no way a college student could afford to live here on a regular basis. Then again, who knows? Parents give their kids everything these days.

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