Your erotic stories

I like gardening. It's a relaxing hobby and I happen to have the knack of making plants grow. Give my brother and me two identical plants and what happens? He carefully plants his one, adds the right fertilizer, tends it carefully, watches over it like a mother with her baby, right up to the time it dies on him. Me, I slap my plant down into the soil and jump back to give it room to grow. A natural talent and a green thumb, I assure my brother. Pure arsed luck, he tells me.

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The early morning sun began to shine brightly through our bedroom window- waking me up. I wasn’t much of a morning person until the first morning you and I woke up in each other’s arms. After that, I grew to love mornings. Our mornings were special. It was the one time of the day where we actually got to hold each other close and not be in a big hurry. All the cuddling and whispering as we each wake up. Except this morning, I woke up too late.

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Sam Stafford is a grouchy old man who lives up the road from us. Well when I say old, he's probably in his early thirties, but from the arrogant young age of eighteen, thirty is old. Especially the way he acts at times. He does, I will admit, have a green thumb, and his garden has the best roses for miles around. Come spring he had an amazing display. That's partly what led to the trouble.

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