Your erotic stories

My name is Carol and I'm 39 years old, I stand about 5'5" tall and weigh in at about 105 pounds. I have light brown shoulder length hair that I like to pull behind my ears sometimes. I own a small car rental shop in town, which does fairly well to support my son and I. Tim or as I still like to think of him "TIMMY" is my 18 year old son, he decided to stay with me after my husband Mark and I thought it best to go our own separate ways, we did not have a falling out, just a mutual decision on calling it quits.

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When you're eighteen and having overly erotic dreams, to whom do you talk? Your girlfriends? They'd laugh and want all the salacious details. Your boyfriend? He'd want to act it out, and that wasn't going to happen. Your mother? Yes, Denise could just see herself going to her mother to discuss erotic dreams. Not in this lifetime. She sighed as she went to bed. Maybe she wouldn't have any tonight.

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Abbey was on her way to the job of her dreams. Growing up, she had always wanted to work at an investment firm like her father, who was very successful at what he did. She worked hard all of her life, determined to make it on her own. She went to the best schools and did all the right things. After a few notable internships, she was finally able to land an entry level position at a major investment firm in the big city.

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I have just taken my assigned right aisle seat in first class and opened the latest issue of "Newsweek" and begun to read a story about Terrorism in Iraq and suddenly - you walk through the entrance to the seating section of the Boeing 747. There is a certain air about you as you enter; every male in the front passenger area is staring at you.

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When I took over as chair of the office social committee, I was not aware that one of the tasks I'd inherited from the previous chair was helping the boss set up for the company Christmas party that he hosted at his house. It wasn't something I should have had to do, but the previous chair had set a precedent that I was then obliged to uphold. It wasn't all bad, though, since the party was on a Saturday night and they offered to let me get ready over there rather than having to run home and run back.

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I was just entering second year of college and decided to rent a room instead of going back to residence. It was so noisy there and the food sucked. So I thought finding a room would be better. Checking the Student Housing Office on campus I found a couple of places that seemed interesting. After checking them out, I decided to take the room at Mrs. Johnson's house. Mrs. Johnson, or Mary as she wanted me to call her, was about 60. She had a full time job but needed the extra cash from my rent to make ends meet.

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The bass is hard. The temperature is hot. "Bar in the front, dancing in the middle, pool in the back...thankfully Aussie pubs aren't much different from American bars." I don't really attract that much attention until I open my mouth and order a coke. Then every eye is on the American with the weird accent ordering a decidedly "wimpy" drink. I shake off the stares with a smile as I peel my glasses off.

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