Your erotic stories

I don't know how it happened. Nothing seemed out of place. The last thing I remember is getting out of the shower and drying my hair. That's when I saw him in my vanity mirror. A figure, clothed in black with a mask over his face, wrapping him arms around my shoulders and face. Then everything went black. I know I should call the police but...I don't know if I want to.

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I had driven several hours through the hot Nevada desert, frequently consulting the map from a friend. About an hour before getting to Creampie Ranch, I called ahead. Admittance there is by invitation from a current member, and I had my signed letter from my friend. My heart pounded as I rang the bell at the gate. A moment later it unlocked with a loud click and I walked to the main building.

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Joe was thirty-eight and lonely. He was tall, average looking and successful. His problem was judgment. He had given up looking for someone to share with, someone to love and be loved by. How he wanted that. Yet, every relationship he ever had ended when his chosen woman cheated on him. That confused him because he was an attentive lover, a good provider, even-tempered and respectful. Wasn't that what the women wanted?

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Karen had spent the first few days following her visit to the massage parlor savoring the memories. No matter what she did, something would cause her to think about Tess and she would be off on another long erotic daydream. It was a good thing she had little on her schedule requiring deep concentration.

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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school. Mike was a bit of a paradox. He was a soccer player who wasn't a jock, a metal head who wasn't a burnout, and a good student who wasn't a nerd.

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I'm out cycling; I generally cycle most weekends, usually with a friend, but today I'm on my own. I'm going fairly fast along a winding country road; I see a few parked cars on my side of the road ahead of me. I look around to see if it's safe to pull out and avoid the cars. As I look forward again, I see a car door, sweeping open in front of me, thinking - what the hell - where the hell did that come from. I try to swerve around it, but 'nop', I catch the edge of the door and this throws me off my bike, bike one way, me another, rolling a few times until I end up in a small pond.

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The first time I met Mr. Steinberg, I was totally impressed with the way he carried himself. He looked pretty old to me, maybe in his 70's, maybe even older, but I could tell from the way he dressed and spoke and especially with his young physique, that he exuded confidence and self assurance. I don't think he was a body builder by any means, but dressed in casual attire, he stood straight and proud and when he moved around, his agility belied his age, however old he really was. 

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My father-in-law, Robert, is more than just my wife's father. We have much in common. We both like to read and watch sports. We both like working with our hands. He likes to fish more than I do, but it's another thing that we do together. We help each other with our yard work and home maintenance. We can talk to each other. He's my friend and a buddy.

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Jack heaved the heavy basket of groceries on to the handlebars of his bike and set off on his delivery run. This was the last of his deliveries this afternoon. Mrs. Kelly's large family ensured that her delivery would always be the largest and the heaviest. He liked going to her place and left it to last so he could linger and talk. Mrs. Kelly was a big jolly woman. "I am sixteen stone," she told him one afternoon when he helped her up the stairs.

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It's not easy being the parent of a teenager these days, especially of a teenage girl. They all want to dress like tramps and every time they go out to a party you're worried they they're going to get drunk or high, or worse. I like to think of myself as an involved father and I make sure to keep up on the trends kids are into these days. I remember being horrified when I read about "rainbow" parties and when those multicolored gasket bracelets were in the news I checked my daughter's wrists every time she came from her mother's.

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