Your erotic stories

It was almost 9:00 PM when he finally took the elevator down from his office. It had been a stressful day, the boss on a rampage, pressure to complete a major report with the deadline unexpectedly moved ahead. He had worked his ass off to get it done, but now found at least some personal satisfaction in knowing it was finished and that he had done his best on it. And to top things off, his ex had been on the phone several times during the day, bitching at him about god knows what.

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Susie could feel the Reverend's eyes burned a path up and down her slender form as he stood in the doorway, waiting to be invited in. They started at her auburn hair, tied back into a one-foot braided ponytail, flicked casually over one shoulder.

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Chapter 1 I hadn't set out to do it. I had never thought about it or planned such a thing. It just wasn't me, it was not my thing, well it had never been until then. Something must have changed, but was it with me, was it circumstances or what?

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Darla practically hammered on the door to the hotel room, her body shaking with anger. Jane was in there, Darla just knew it, so why didn't she just open the door and take her 'angry goth girl' medicine? She was hiding, that's what it was.

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I couldn't believe this was the guy I'd be working with. I stopped in my tracks at the doorway and furrowed my brows at the script. TWINK: [Needs to be expressive, bubbly, seductive, cute] The description listed all of the stereotypical roles of a twink, but this guy sitting beside Dave—or should I say on the same couch as Dave, as they were by no means near each other—was anything but. Dave insists upon introducing his actors in his house beforehand, to sort of break the ice in a relaxed atmosphere (instead of an awkward first meeting on set).

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Author's note: This story is true and I do not have the heart to tell the whole truth. Maybe one day I will. I am hoping people will enjoy it anyway. She was soft and warm, she had just had a shower. I loved the smell of her shampoo. She gestured her arm towards me and said 'Pillow?'.

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He was laid to rest in the crowded little graveyard adjacent to the small Anglican church on the fringes of the Kyrenia Harbor in Cyprus. My mother had shown no interest in interring him in the States—or even in attending the burial ceremonial in Cyprus. But I thought that, in any event, this was a fitting place for him to be buried. This was where he belonged. He had taken his stand here and lived the last decade of his life here. I just wished I had been part of that last decade. Of course, that was as much my fault as it was his.

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PRELUDE The four divorced women were gathered at Joan's house for an afternoon of Bridge. It had become a ritual that each Wednesday they would play cards in the morning, have lunch and then enjoy sex with each other. Each week they rotated the location so that each woman had an opportunity to host the group.

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Veronica was pissed off. She had just heard from her sister that her niece was leaving her prep school and wanted to move out of state. While she certainly didn't mind her niece coming to live with her for a while (she knew that her niece was already 19 & only had a couple of months left in school), she was pissed about the reason that her sister gave her.

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It all started when my very dear friend Murthy had a stroke. But, let me start at the very beginning. I am Sekhar, a sixty year old successful professional consultant. Murthy, twelve years my senior and a long retired professor has been my dear friend of over forty years. I and my wife Sumana (58) live in our own comfortable three bed room apartment in a posh area of our city, our only daughter, married, lives in U.S.A along with her husband and son. Murthy is a widower having lost his dear wife about seven years ago.

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