Your erotic stories

I waited eagerly for you at the door. Peeking through the small windows hoping you wouldn't see me before you got inside the door. The suit I wore was driving me crazy...so tight and hot. My skin couldn't breathe at all and I was getting sweaty. It felt like the 10 min it normally took you to get home from work was taking far too long.

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Here we are arguing. Again. It's gotten bad lately. I don't know if it's the stress in his new job, or the mounting debt from my student loans. One thing is for sure, I've raised my voice one too many times, and now he's shut down. It infuriates me when he does this, but at least I managed to talk him into a walk. A long excruciatingly quiet walk.

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There are many moments in life that one can see as stunning; I am witnessing such a moment. My home is in the mountains of Pennsylvania, when the snow falls across the landscape, especially around the holidays it reminds me that God,in his infinite wisdom, allows us the time to reflect and remember the beauty in our lives. It has been some time since I've written of my deliciously decadent liaisons. As you know, I am a lover of older men.

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Nicky pushed opened the back-door to Bob's house. It was Tuesday so she had at least three hours before Bob, her landlord, returned from his weekly trip to town. Three hours to do some washing, have a hot shower and grab some food before Bob returned with his groceries, animal feed and fuel. Nicky lived in a caravan on Bob's farm. Every other day Nicky had to bathe using a basin and a sponge but on Tuesdays she took the opportunity to 'play house' while Bob was out.

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There is a large house overlooking the ocean. It stands alone on a high dune covered with sea grass. There are many balconies and windows mounted in the dark wood of the outside walls. There is a large picture window in the front of the house, and through the glass, one can see a single figure, standing still and alone. It is a woman. Her name is Passion.

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Kate double-checked her hair in the glass window of Professor Foster's front door. She wasn't sure why, but the 18-year-old wanted to look her best for her teacher. Probably because it was her first day on the job as his babysitter. "Normally, I'm reluctant to do this during the semester," he'd said at the end of his last lecture, "but my wife and I are really in a bind.

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Kelly and I met in our freshman composition class, two eighteen-year-olds sitting in the back of the room trying not to fall asleep together and cutting jokes about our professor as he talked about how his class was an important foundation for our collegiate success, would help us in life, etc., etc. All the same shit that high school teachers tried to tell me.

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Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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Day 1. My wife Pam is very pretty and has a nice figure. She is also quite timid and will avoid confrontation at almost any cost. I worried that would eventually get her into trouble, and while I was partly right about that, it turned out to be something totally unexpected that was the dominant factor. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

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I remember the feel of the cool wall as it warmed against my naked skin. The wall was so important, my center and my focus. My breasts were pressed hard to the unyielding surface and I could feel you behind me. With my hands at the small of my back, bound at the wrist with the silk belt of my robe, I ached to turn, to move. This is the first thing I recall from my dream, with your fingertips grazing down my bare back.

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