Your erotic stories

Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.

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This story is based off of real events. Names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved. All participants in sexual acts are 18 years or older. * My name is Brian. When this story takes place, I was 18 years old, 5'11" and around 140 pounds. Having just recovered from a bad case of mono, I was not in the shape I would have liked to be in, but I was still decent looking. However, this story is not about my first time, it is about hers.

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"Do you remember me?" Peter Dovzhenko turned from his seat in the sand, where he'd spent the last hour watching the waves rolling onto the beach, when he heard the smoky, Slavic-accented voice of a young woman behind him. He found her standing 5'3", with dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair, her body lithe and fit like a gymnast's, her tiny, turquoise bikini covering pert little A-cup breasts just big enough to hold.

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You see, it's like this, and that's all.

Dusk and twilight are cousins who touch fingers over evening.

The time between them is voluptuous and welcoming like a cradle, the hammock between two poles of illumination. We can do anything in that time, without analyzing the why of it- for the world feels like a warm pearl in our palm.

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