Your erotic stories

We had been friends for some time, we had met at the restaurant where I was working, and had become drinking buddies. At the time of this story, I was 22, and he was 45. Paul and I would often go out together pubbing. At some point (I really don't remember when) he told me what he wanted to have sex. The thought didn't offend me, but made me very nervous; my only male experience had been a public washroom masturbation encounter, so I told him I wasn't interested.

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He met her at a regional training conference being held at a well known, North Florida resort. A number of attendees had taken the resort van to a restaurant a few miles away from the main conference center. He was sitting at the small restaurant bar having a drink; she came up and took the seat next to him and started a conversation. From his perspective, she was not the type of woman he would pursue or attempt to seduce.

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As he exploded in her mouth she felt the car slow a bit, bearing to the right. She wiped the last remnants of his pleasure from her chin and sat up, taking a look at the rest area around them. They both needed to compose themselves so he picked a remote parking space in the RV lot and put the car in park. To their mutual chagrin, a small Winnebago pulled into the spot next to them.

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It has been two weeks since I've seen my husband. Lou's been working at his law firm's office in the Grand Cayman and has made arrangements for me to join him for his last weekend there. Relaxing in the back seat of the limo; I was staring out the window at aqua blue waters of the Caribbean, deep in my thoughts, what's it going to be like today? How will he do me?

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There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'

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It felt odd, sitting in front of the screen, waiting to have a conversation with someone. But then it wasn't just a screen. A camera, too. I can see you. Big deal, I can see you too. I like the anonymity of the telephone, I can curl myself up, pull faces, read the news, hell, I can even play with myself, safe in the knowledge that no-one gets anything more than my voice. This felt a lot more dangerous.

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Jenny Tidwell, president of Pi Phi, had one basic rule in life. Anything good that happened was her doing, and anything bad that happened was someone else's fault. Her plan in life was also simple: marry rich, make her own money and live life at the top. It was her senior year, and she was dating Chase Carlisle, the former president of Chi Sigma, now graduated from college and away at law school but close enough that they kept their relationship going.

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The first package was innocent enough when it arrived. She was a little surprised to see a courier at her door when she answered the doorbell at the early hour of 9 am. Since her first class wasn't until eleven she had actually just woken up. The courier collected her signature and then handed over an oblong box. When she opened it she saw a miniature rose bush with a dozen yellow roses inside with a note.

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They'd been our neighbors for over 9 years. We'd both moved into the community when it was first built, and watched as it filled out and grew, as did our children, moving up from elementary school through middle school and into high school. We were as close as most neighbors could be, easily at home with each other, free to come and go in each other's yards and garages, and even into the house. Our only child and their youngest, Cory, were only a year apart.

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My grandfather emigrated from Austria in 1919. He had four sisters, but he was the only boy. He married my grandmother in 1940. Unable for whatever reason to have children of their own, they eventually adopted a girl (Mary) and a boy (Peter), and each of them in turn had a boy (John Mark for Mary; Matthew (me) for Peter) and a girl (Elizabeth for Mary; Joan (my sister) for Peter).

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