Your erotic stories

Joan, my wife, had taken a summer semester course of golf back in college and for some time now I've urged her to come out with me. I figured we would be able to spend more time together that way. Recently she surprised me by taking golf lessons. She started with our local course's female golf pro, but after only a couple of lessons she came home and told me the woman had left and she was switched to one of the male pros.

read more

Liz sighed, watching an especially amorous young couple who had obviously forgotten they were on a public beach. He was gorgeous, and as much as Liz would have liked to live vicariously through the redhead he was pawing for a few minutes, she blew her whistle anyway. The pair looked more than a little embarrassed when they finally realized after the second tweet that the whistle was meant for them.

read more

Pamela had already made the picnic and packed it into a wicker basket when the boys arrived. She'd cleaned the kitchen as well, been a thorough little domestic goddess with her mom and dad away for the week. And finally she had changed from jogging pants and T-shirt into her costume. Nothing outlandish, just a simple white-muslin dress and sandals, and then to the garden to pluck daisies and buttercups and ring them into a crown and a necklace.

read more

She was a runner. That would prolong the pursuit. He had already chased her about one hundred yards into the woods. Why she headed in that direction he'll never know. But in another fifty yards or so, she'd be facing a steep embankment that would allow him to get her. He ran behind her with that familiar satisfaction of another successful capture.

read more

On Monday I appeared for work. There I met Denise, the secretary/paralegal who was also Ron's sister. Denise was thirty-five with long brown hair that reached her ass, a curvy figure, impressive chest, and killer legs. Her round wide round face featured large green eyes, a prominent jaw, and a large mouth with full lips.

read more

My alarm. I slapped the thing, sent it flying. Later, I'd be amazed the thing still worked. I hate alarm clocks. I sat up on the side of my bed and adjusted my nightie. One of my nipples was peeking out. Five years ago, I'd have played with it, teased it for its indiscretion. Hell, five years ago, I probably wouldn't have worn the nightie. And I still would have played with it.

read more