Your erotic stories

It was in 1967 that I originally developed a life long affinity for silk. This was due in part to two people that my affinity was preserved for the rest of my life. I'm not sure why, but the love and appeal for the feel of it is ingrained within me now.

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My affair with Stevie; if that's what you want to call it is still going on today. It's not an affair in the conventional sense as there is absolutely no chance that he would ever buy me flowers or take me to a French Restaurant. Nor would I want him to. We are as he quaintly calls it – 'fuck-buddies'. We still occasionally go to the derelict factory on a Friday afternoon and the odd evening after work.

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Fireworks burst in the night sky overhead and a menagerie of costumed men and women push past me on the crowded street. The inebriated celebrants shy away and let me pass when I glare them down with my practiced 'Do Not Fuck With Me' face. It takes quite a lot of practice to get it right when you're a five-foot-six woman. I scan the crowd and regain sight of you as you turn down a wide stairway and into an underground concourse. My lips can't help but curl up in a smile.

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Where do I start? We've been gone a long time, I know, Jared and jenna and I... and there have been a lot of changes. The first, I'm sure you'll notice, is that I'm saying we. I guess if you've ever read any of the exploits of Jared and jenna you'll know that I've always been a part of their lives... as a friend and a confidant... but our relationship has changed. I am... let's just say, more involved... for now.

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I took a long sip of my dirty martini and leaned into the bar, staring resentfully down towards the end of it. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan, was still engaged in conversation, feeding his ego with clever banter. I noticed the familiar animated expressions, grand gestures, and overly enthused laughter that captivated the small crowd of people he was talking to. I sighed heavily, and settled back onto my bar stool and played with the spear of olives in my drink.

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I've always been a gadget guy. As a kid I was the one who took all his toys apart and put them back together. I built a bike with two frames and a long chain so I could ride around taller than the other kids. When I was old enough I bought two junk cars and made one good car from them. Building stuff and fixing stuff so it was better than when it was new has always been fun for me.

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He keeps saying that it can't happen again. Every time, as soon as his afterglow wears off, the guilt and self-loathing kicks in and he spits out those words that always make me smile. He is so adorable, trying to fight this like either one of us has a choice. I keep telling him that this is bigger than both of us, and he would be much happier if he would just give in. Give in to his fate...the way that I did the very instant that I saw him.

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"What?!" I half yell as I turn around to see who keeps calling my name. I should have known it was HIM. We had gotten off to a bad start when he started at my parent's medical practice a year ago and we had never tried to make peace with each other. Things were...well...tense when we were around each other so we tried to stay out of each other's way as much as possible. It was really hard though when we worked together all week.

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It was almost six p.m. shift change at the small local bar that has been my hangout for many years. I seem to only get there on Sunday evenings now. I shoot pool with friends, look at the strippers and stock up on fantasies for the coming week. One lovely, married dancer named Britney was responsible for a large share of them. She always worked Sunday evenings. Her life has been in turmoil for most of the last year. Every few times I see her I help her relax and get her off with my hands in the private corner.

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Kara and I walked side-by-side down the long stone stairs away from the Court House. We and done the same thing for quite a few weekdays; she had been staying with me in my big five bedroom house for two months since David's bail was revoked for drugs and alcohol. His big, young, strong body did not swagger as much when the judge handed down seven and a half to twenty for Murder II. He had stolen my car, my deceased wife's wedding rings and killed a woman while driving under the influence.

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