Your erotic stories

Helen was a little surprised when the doorbell rang at precisely nine a.m., exactly when the contractor had told her that the workers would arrive to build her new deck. She was even more surprised when she opened the door and saw two young men who couldn't be more than twenty years old.

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Jason stood on a rock overlooking a deserted beach beneath him. The cool sea breeze that sent an occasional whiff of salt up to him was a delightful refreshment under the glaring sun. He felt slightly dazed, uncertain if that was due to the heat, the amounts of red wine he had been drinking the night before, or ... he rubbed his eyes, incredulously.

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My friend, George, the sleeping car attendant, teases me with a double entendre private nickname. He calls me "All-Aboard Betty." Let me explain. I have necessarily drawn George into a conspiracy because I need him to achieve my purpose during periodic journeys aboard The Frontier, a transcontinental passenger train. When I'm aboard the Frontier becomes instead the Piece Train. (Apologies to Yusuf Islam. The devil made me do that.)

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My name is Scott and this story is about the summer after I graduated High school. I had one of the most erotic experiences of my life back then. Like most truly spontaneous adventures, the events of that summer have affected me in a manner, which I am convinced has driven my libido to the point of constant desire to this day.

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Eyes full of sleep, Julie picked her watch up from the bedside table. It was just after 8. Familiar noises suggested Dan was already up as usual. She heard the muffled click of their door being pulled to and guessed he was heading off on his Saturday morning run with Craig and Brian. A tap shortly after on the next unit's door and Craig's quiet goodbye to his girlfriend confirmed she was right.

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I had been trying to write a Great American novel for years but had only succeed in writing an episodic tale of a town, an episodic tale of a singer, and a convoluted science fiction story. My agents found online publishers for each but not print publishers. My agents were a lesbian couple that would kindly be described as colorful. I described them as batty.

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The first time I ever saw Kevin, I was picking up some materials from the supply store that were needed at a job site. My job required that I occasionally run extra materials to the construction crews if they ran short during the day. I don't mind being outdoors. Some women prefer the office environment, but I like the wide-open spaces, and the freedom to take the occasional truck ride to a job site.

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When I hung up the phone, I admit I might have slammed down the receiver in frustration. It was Monday and I had been looking forward to an evening spent in my recliner with a couple beers and some Monday Night Football. Instead, I had just been informed that I had been enlisted by my wife to help entertain another in a seemingly endless stream of consultants brought in to figure out how to make my wife's place of employment hum.

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Sometimes the way things work out can make you smile. Recent events in my life came together to bring my husband and myself some unexpected pleasures. I will start by introducing myself. My name is Addison Jeffries. I am 30 years of age, 5'10' and I've got long, wavy, auburn hair. I'm an attractive woman and slightly vain about my looks, so I work out daily and run and swim. I own a travel agency and can afford to dress in the latest, form-flattering fashions.

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The day dragged on and on. Claire watched as the last few minutes ticked away. She had already organized her affairs and was now just waiting until she could go. It was Friday, so the traffic would be horrible, but at least she had a few days off. She longed to be home in her quiet apartment. Eventually, the clock struck five. She walked briskly down to the parking garage and started her car. She hurried and managed to get five minutes down the freeway when she ran into grid locked traffic. She sighed and turned up the music.

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