Your erotic stories

This is an edited version of the original. A comment mentioned that the ending of the original didn't really fit and after reading it a few times, I realized he/she was right and I changed it. I hope you enjoy. "Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything." - Katharine Hepburn, Me: Stories of My Life

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The weather warmed with the oncoming spring. Steve worked as an instructor at a small flight school. He used to be a good instructor, but took a hiatus and only recently returned to the profession. He could make the technical sound simple, was patient and rarely got ruffled. Now he had a steady schedule of students, enjoyed himself, and found the process as fulfilling as ever. The pay was lousy, but the rewards made up for it.

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When Randall came home, Cassie was waiting to take his coat. Dressed in her school uniform, as usual; the skirt so short that you could see the bottom most curve of her ass and her white cotton shirt over a white cotton tank, tucked into her green plaid skirt. Lotus was crossing the floor, with a scotch in her hands. As she moved the ice tinkled against the glass, that was nothing compared to the slight sway of her breasts, he thought as he loosened his tie with a smile.

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Cue the music. I'm thinking Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees. I'm strutting down the street, buttons undone on my shirt, gold chains tangled in my chest hair. Yeah, I'm that guy, and it feels good. Family, friends, and co-workers attributed my abundant happiness to the fact that my relationship with Nicole was going well, and that was true as well.

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I've known Sarah for nearly 20 years. We "met" online back when the Internet was in its infancy. A time when you had to pay 29 cents to send an e-mail. We were both married then, and had a mutual interest in a certain female singer, which helped our friendship blossom. This was back in the days of cassettes and other memorabilia being swapped and I'm sure that she enjoyed getting little packages from across the country like I did.

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I do wonder though, sometimes, how I think of myself, it's a pleasant sort of curiousness. Am I a gay man who has a girlfriend? A straight man who has been with other men? As more one way than the other? As someone who declines to identify that firmly? Adjectives, not nouns.

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It was probably one of the worst days of my life. To start with, I woke up a half an hour late for work. No time for coffee. My clothes had fallen off the hanger during the night, so when I put them on I looked as though I had actually slept in them. My cat had barfed up a hairball, inside my purse, which I found when I was digging for my car keys.

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As I closed my car door and stepped toward my house, a small voice cracked like leather on an old saddle called out, "Alan, you've got a package over here." "Thanks, Mrs. Taylor. I'll be over in just a minute." I carried my satchel into the house and picked up a envelop of photographs I'd just gotten developed the day before.

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It is still dark outside when your alarm goes off to wake you to get ready for work. As usual, you hit the snooze button and roll over to enjoy a few more minutes of sleep. Little do you know I woke up feeling a little frisky this morning and you won’t need that snooze button! Quietly, I sneak out of the bed and run into the bathroom for a quick visit before turning off your alarm and hopping back into bed. You are peacefully unaware of how I am going to rock your world this morning.

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"Fore!!!" Sam shouted as he swung the club, striking the little white ball with a resounding 'crack." I held my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun as I watched the ball sail into the distance, veering off to the right before disappearing into a copse of tall trees. "God Damn It!" he cursed, pounding the driver into the turf in frustration.

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