Your erotic stories

I've just spent another long, hot afternoon in the garden and all I can think about is taking a shower to cool myself down. The garden looks great, but I'm a mess. Covered in dirt and sweat, I let myself into the back door and slip out of my gardening boots. I've rinsed myself off a bit with the hose but it's nowhere near what a shower could do for me.

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Dear Readers, Everything is going according to plan. -Steve For a minute, I couldn't help but stare at him. Shock washed over me, intermixed with hurt, as if a needle full of misery had been injected into my veins. Whatever had been built last night was beginning to crumble all around us. It was like watching the 1871 burning of Chicago and being powerless to stop the devastation as it swept across town.

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At 28 years old I hadn't been with a man for three years. The first two years after my husband died, I couldn't bare the thought of another man touching me. I felt like it was cheating. Jake wasn't supposed to die in that car accident. He was supposed to grow old and gray with me. Jake was gone and I knew I had to move on, but acknowledging this didn't make things any easier. Still, at twenty-eight I wasn't willing to spend the rest of my life alone.

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Rachel stood outside the door of the apartment. Her right hand moved up and down the side of her jeans, wiping off the wetness on her palm. Coming here... making the decision to be with her would end up hurting another. 'But it's how I feel... What I want!' She thought to herself.

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"Reception to Tom, over." The radio on his belt squawked softly, and his friend Gina's voice beckoned to him from his reverie. "This is Tom. Go ahead, Gina, over." "Tom, I have a guest request for an unusual repair, over." "What do I need to bring up, Gina? Over." "I don't really know, Tom. Can you come to the front, please? Over." That was unusual for Gina; she's a great communicator, so it must have been something "Personal" that the guest needed.

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So much for a senior prom, I mused, watching the flicker of the candle flames on the center piece. They wriggled in the dimly lit ballroom of the Rose Hotel, stretching only to almost drown in the liquid wax only to stretch again. It was supposed to be a platinum night. I had a date with a chick named Kara that had a killer body and a bottle of vodka my older brother bought me waiting in a room I rented upstairs.

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Anna's parents came from Europe. Her father was a tall blond from Poland and her mother a red-haired beauty from Ireland. Yet poor Anna was stuck with the wrong branch of the DNA. She was six feet and then some in her socks. Her face was plain with a broad forehead, long jaw and beaked nose. Most of her height was in her legs. She wore men's jeans with a 30 inch waist and 36 inch inseam. Her hair was neither blond nor red but a sad mixture resulting in a rough brown. Her height served her well in obtaining a volleyball scholarship to college where she majored in business.

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Television just wasn't cutting it. I couldn't get her off of my mind. I'd fallen right into the same routine I had every night. Beer and TV usually made me groggy quick, especially on a full stomach. One pull of a lever, and my aching feet were up and my hands were behind my head in the recliner. The same recliner where she had climbed into my lap without her panties and rode me like a stallion.

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I love my wife, and I would never cheat on her. Usually, when someone makes such a bold statement, the word 'but' follows and we hear how this is not always the case. I suppose my story is no different. Kelly and I have been together since high school. I thought back then it was a love that would always last. Ten years later, it was still the case. Kelly had been out of town for three weeks now, acting as a consultant for a company in California.

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Little Devil Chastity was dressed like a cheap whore. Short, black semi-sheer mini-skirt. Braless, she wore a too tight and too small, neon pink tube top that barely contained her boobs. Cheap costume jewelry and knee high faux leather black boots. Poofy blonde hair, overdone make-up and strong perfume. And underneath, lace, red crotchless panties. It made her feel like a slut. It made her feel liberated. It made her feel excited.

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