Your erotic stories

I don't think I will ever forget that weekend I spent at Meg's. It was the beginning of summer, and I had a couple of days to kill in the city before flying back home. Meg had decided to stay and work for the duration of the summer at the museum, and so she'd rented this small one bedroom apartment downtown. It was the coziest little place you ever saw, and we both had a grand old time decorating it;

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Rachel took one last look at herself in the mirror as she finished getting ready to leave. She and her friends, Molly and Jennifer, were going to the local Renaissance Festival today and Rachel was determined to look her best. It was the first time she was going without her parents and she was determined to flirt and play to her hearts content. She loved how the people who worked the fairs were able to make almost any comment suggestive.

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I think I just might be the best peach picker in Virginia. Well, in Rockingham County at least. And that isn't just me boasting. That's what Brother Jeb said all the time I was picking peaches for him. And Mr. Howell said that to me too. More than once he said that. I've heard both men say that, in the peach business, it's getting the first fruit of the season to market before anyone else does that can mean the difference between a good season and a break-even or bad season.

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"Nice day to wash a car isn't it?" Dean walked up the driveway seeing his friend's mother in cut-off jean shorts and a black bikini top washing the car. "Oh yeah! Nice and sunny out this morning!" She replied back with a smile while pulling the soapy sponge out of the bucket of water. "Hank home?" He tried his best keeping his eyes off her body if she just happened to look over his way while talking.

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"So?" Jason asked as he rolled up at the bottom of the drive on his mountain bike. Robert held up his phone, showing the message from his older brother with two specifically capitalized words in an otherwise innocuous message — care package. "Sweet. Let's roll." The pair set out on the gravel road, riding even deeper into the middle of nowhere. Living out in the country certainly had its disadvantages, but there were a few things that helped offset the boredom and inconvenience. One of them was the lack of prying eyes.

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When I was little I used to sit outside with my Grandmother on her wide front porch and we would dream about what we would do to the gardens one day. It was one of my favorite things to do with her when I was visiting. My parents died when I was in my early twenties and my Grandmother was all I had left. Eventually I moved to New York City and made my life there, becoming a very successful writer. I had more money than I knew what to do with and I would send her checks, telling her to make her special garden.

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I love summer time. Especially the clothes. Naomi was wearing those short shorts over her bikini. You know the type, the ones that would show off the color of her panties if she went for the full-bottom briefs. She even decided to forgo a shirt over her top. I'd pulled on a muscle shirt with my suit and we were off for a day at the beach.

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Summer classes had always been a drag for me. The students were always more captivated by the rays of sunlight crashing through foggy classroom windows than with my explanations on how context was one of the most important aspects to master when translating a literary work. And more often than not the students were as fogged up as the windows were as they fought off the haze of the previous night's partying. Not that I blames them -- there were still parts of my early days attending university that were a blur.

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