Your erotic stories

It's a bit of a librarian look, the way I wear my hair at work. All coiled up on my head, and stuck through with several of those Japanese-looking hair spikes. Not a strand is out of place, and the hair is wound and wrapped tightly into a bun roughly the size of one of those Kaiser rolls the bun it makes is easily the size of one of those Kaiser rolls.

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Please read Stories 1-3. Please comment on the story not the grammar I am telling my story for fun not an English exam. This is what actually happened those years ago. I like to start my stories with a brief recount of my previous stories.

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The great walled port city of Sirtus sat on the edge of the Mycean Sea. A many thousand ships hove into its port each day, and a great deal as many departed in the same. No market square was empty, and few pockets hung limp in the trousers of their owners. Trade boomed, honor ruled, and hearts loved. But Paolo the merchant had, as of late, found himself distant from his wife Francesca. To be sure, she was pleasing to look upon. But the women of Sirtus were in no short supply, and all of them seemed so much fairer than his own.

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"Harder, if you like." "I don't want to hurt you." "It's all right now. Please do it." She was astride him, her eyes drawn momentarily to a small bead of perspiration running from his forehead to the grey flecks at his temple, then looking down on the finger tips tightening their grip on her nipples. At the start this would have hurt but now, with her juices flowing, she liked the added stimulation, supplementing the hardness of him inside her.

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More than a year on from his wife's premature death, Julian found himself increasingly thinking about sex. Adventurous though they had once been, during the later stages of their marriage, and especially during the last months of Joyce's illness, sexual activity had dwindled virtually to nothing. Julian had learned to go without, to put the idea out of his mind. But now, given his freedom, the old urges were resurfacing ever more frequently.

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The day that Candice came to pitch her idea for Michael and Julie was just another ordinary day. Her letter gave a brief description of what they might expect. Julie would normally have sent the usual rejection reply but something in the letter made her tingle in anticipation to at least listen to the woman's idea. In response, Julie quickly typed a reply inviting Candice for a meeting that Thursday at nine o'clock.

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