Your erotic stories

I love her. I love everything about her. I love her. I love her eyes; they shine like diamonds reflecting the emerald of a shamrock field. I love her smile; angels have fallen from heaven for envy of that smile. I love her hair, coppery red that flows down her back like glittering lava giving accent to her already breathtaking form. Her every movement is poetry. Mortals walk, the goddess of my devotion glides like water across polished glass.

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He sat in his favorite chair, on the back deck, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was feeling sorry for himself remembering old times with his ex-wife. Their union had not been the most exciting life experience. He, was however, looking forward to his ritual afternoon pleasure. He was on his fourth or maybe fifth beer when she finally made her appearance, his next-door neighbor who on any bright sunny afternoon made her ablutions to the sun god wearing nothing but a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. She was too young for him to guess her age, but he took a stab at it noting the maturity of her curves the width of her gorgeous hips and guessed between twenty-eight and thirty-five.

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It had been a long day, and all Jim Reynolds wanted to think about was taking in an evening run and enjoying a quiet Friday night at home. He had a full weekend planned ahead of him, finishing up the renovation work on his latest real estate investment. Running and working was his way of staving off depression. Since his divorce five years ago, he had been buying older homes, living in them while he updated them, and then selling them. If you didn't mind living in substandard conditions for a while, it was a good way to make a tidy profit outside regular work, and keep your mind off growing old alone.

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CHAPTER 1 Sun shafts through the treetops infiltrated early morning mist over the river as Loretta Oblinger sat in the sales office, hands warmed by a hot mug of coffee resting against her breasts. Smiling faintly, she contemplated the scene and thought about the wedding she'd attend that afternoon, alone, although the invitation stated 'and partner'.

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I don't want to open my eyes. It feels so peaceful and warm lying in my bed listening to the rain falling on my roof. The little drops create a rhythmic pattern, a song if you will as they plummet and splash one by one. You may be hard pressed to appreciate the rain. Maybe you don't see the beauty in a sky painted in shades of gray, may consider it bleak or dreary, not me. Rain is the element necessary to sustain all life, how could that be dreary?

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Tuesday morning I took special care in getting ready for work; knowing it was Jacks usual day to frequent the library. I'd spent the night (like most others that week) dreaming of Jack's sweet seduction and our "date" last week. Scanning the conservative work clothes in my closet I finally settled on the form-fitting black skirt and the soft red sweater. I was so nervous; it took me several tries just to get the seams straight on the backs of my stockings. The morning seemed to take forever to pass and after lunch I'd stood at my office window, lost in fantasies of Jack.

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When I was a kid my best mate was Dean Kelly. As so happens with these things, our mothers got to know each other when they would pick Dean and I up from school, and they too became friends. I would stay over at the Kelly's place and Dean would often stay over at our place. The Kelly's had a pool and so summers were always more fun at Dean's house! Dean and I were on the same touch football team as well and so our families started to go on outings with each other, such as picnics, hikes, football and cricket matches, and the occasional camping trip.

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I'm a 55 year old widow who still looks pretty good. My figure is 36C-24-36 and still pretty firm. I weigh 130lbs which is only ten pounds more than I did in high school and that ten pounds is muscle. My hair is dirty blonde which is just starting to turn gray. I'm pretty tall for a woman - 5' 10". The main reason I still look pretty good is I take a Pilates class every week on Mondays. I really enjoy it and it's keeping me looking good.

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It was Cathy, my girlfriend, who found me the flat. When my old landlord died, and his son served notice on the tenants, I needed somewhere cheap, and available quickly. Of course, the ideal thing would have been to move in with Cathy. But she shared her parents' old house in Bedford with her sister, and anyway, I'd tried commuting from there into London for a couple of weeks. The 'BedPan line' -- Bedford to St Pancras -- was legendary at the time as not so much a rail route, more a fiendish torture cunningly designed by the operator to drive unwary commuters insane.

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If the motel were busier, you wouldn't even notice her. She was about five foot five inches tall, brunette, 130 pounds, mid-forties, nice shape and probably fun to look at under her jogging suit. I had seen her yesterday in the operating waiting room. Like now, she had looked tired, down and alone. Company for continental breakfast seemed like a good idea, so I walked over to her table in the corner by the window. "I saw you at the hospital yesterday. My I join you for breakfast?"

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