Your erotic stories

Several years before my marriage, I met a young woman who had experienced much in life - for her age - but hadn't known the greatest pleasure of all until we met. This is the story of that first experience for her. I had seen her at work a few times, she was eye-catching to say the least. Her vivacious smile, friendly attitude and empathetic charm made her the type of person who lights up a room when she walks in.

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As I awoke it felt as if a freight train was actually traveling through my head. I immediately hugged the pillow again. 'Too much wine last night' was the main thought going through my mind. Of course, without all that wine, I probably would not have experienced one of the best nights of my life.

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The ice clinked in the empty glass as Leah fumbled to find the night stand. She'd drained the last of the brandy in one gulp. She was tired of sitting at home alone. Normally, she didn't drink alone, but she'd been angry tonight. She'd been getting to know a guy she met online and their conversations had gotten pretty deep. She'd chatted online with Xavier for a while before exchanging phone numbers.

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Her name is Kathleen, but her lover calls her Kitty. She is a woman, mature and experienced of life, with lines on her face left by trials over the years – marriage, children arriving, children leaving, and children coming back. And then divorce, loneliness, but a gradual return to strength. She is not one to give up. But some of those lines, in fact, are from laughter, plain and simple, and full of joy.

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This town is new to me. Only last month I lived in Florida. Now I live in North Carolina in a small town 15 miles north of the university. My friends were surprised that I bought a tiny house of 500 sq. ft. instead of a traditional 2000 sq. ft. one. But they shouldn't be since unlike my friends I have no mortgage or car payment. The freedom to invest or travel or to do whatever I want to do with my income came about as a result of choosing to live below my means.

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I wake in the morning, wrapped in silken sheets. Instinct has me curling my arms close around me. The slide of the sheets causes me to shiver slightly. The newness of the material feels wrong against skin that has felt only rough fabrics. I run my fingers over the scars on my left arm, reassuring myself with a familiar gesture as the night before slowly unfolds in my mind.

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