Your erotic stories

"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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I arrived at the Jefferson's Lake Campsite entrance and upset some of those waiting - families in station wagons, seniors in their recreational vehicles, young couples in their cars pulling small trailers -- when I rode my bicycle right past them. I smiled as I approached the ranger station and saw a familiar face exit. I got off my bike and walked up to him.

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Too damn slow, that was my problem. There was a group of them. College students from Japan, Korea, somewhere like that. We were in the waiting room, in Innsbruck, waiting for the overnight bus to Geneva in Switzerland. They had a couple of older women with them. Lecturers or something. A couple of parents perhaps. Some of the students looked mouth-wateringly cute. Lovely sloe eyes, long silky hair that some of them had in pony tails. Parkas, of course. In some cases almost enveloping them entirely. Some had their hoods up, as it was cold.

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We had arrived in my husband's home town. It was really a small village with a main street that looks like it came right out of a painting. The town was decorated for Christmas; all the lamp poles had colored lights running up and down them. A fresh carpet of snow blanketed the town; this place could really get you in the Christmas mood.

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"Oh, look," Carrie says "another adult bookstore. What is that? The 5th one we've seen on this highway? "Yeah, at least," I reply, "what is it about highways in rural Missouri? I guess truckers must be the horniest profession known to man." We watched the signs as we passed by the XXX Adult and Novelty Store. There were a couple cars in the parking lot, but probably not more than the folks who worked there.

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I took a big gulp of water from the wet plastic bottle, and set it back down in the cup holder of my lawn chair. The hot sun was beating down, slowly cooking my legs and bare chest, and the sound of quiet voices passing by was lulling me to sleep. "You look awfully cute in that straw hat Bobby," a familiar female voice said.

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The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums.

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I look at her, and I know I want her. It's not the first time I've seen her tonight; I got here about four hours ago, and she was already here when I walked through the door. She hasn't danced at all. She's done nothing but watch the crowd, her dark eyes glittering with the reflection of the club's lights.

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Authors Note: These stories are based on my life experiences. If you haven't read the first part of my story, I'd suggest that you do so... The names (or most of them) have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. By the way, in case any of you are wondering after the end of this story, the answer is: "Yes, Cheryl is still a part of my life – even if we aren't roommates anymore."

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Sunday evening Steve and I went out for a drink at our favourite bar, the one we had previously met Tracy in, its nice and quiet, sometimes deserted, with lots of dark secluded nooks, which allow us to play around if we get the chance for fun.

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