Your erotic stories

I can see her watching me. Pretending not to, casting her eyes down to the novel in front of her every time I catch her eye from across the patio of this open-air café. Well, I've been watching her, too—long enough to know that she's been "reading" the same page for the last 45 minutes.

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They had first met in an insurgent camp outside Yogyakarta in the Indonesian jungle, far from their own country of the Philippines. In the Philippines there was little chance that they would have met, especially while the Americans were still there in force, but even in more recent years when the government had been weak and taken up with internal squabbling.

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"Hey man, you got a light?" the old guy next to me asked with a hoarse voice. He looked to be about 5'5" tall, overweight, had a head full of roughed up black and gray greasy hair, and a shaggy beard. I guessed his age to be around 50. His jeans and flannel shirt were a little dirty looking. "Sorry, I don't smoke," I told him.

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Grace was a shy young thing that worked a couple of doors down from me. She had been hurt pretty bad by an asshole guy or two along the way and it took me several months and a dozen dates to finally get her to trust me. That first night in bed I found a tiger in a slightly overweight kitten suit. She was not fat. She had a nice shape and breasts that would make babies cry a block away.

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Note: The first story in this 'series' is "Danni Gets Her Wish." You don't really need to read it to understand this one, but I might write more stories that involve previous ones I've written. This story is told from Danni's roommate's perspective.

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As most of you know my relationship is coming to an end with Bob. I've been trying to find a place to live but nothing has struck my fancy. I want to live on the island where I work but fear that once the economy comes back that the real estate market will be out of my price range, or worse that I will purchase a house and not be able to afford the property taxes.

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Chapter One So, there I was sitting in my middle class living room, in my middle class life being bored as hell. I always thought the phrase bored to tears was just a euphemism, but oh no – I was genuinely struggling to fight back tears of pure unadulterated boredom.

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You came and picked me up and we headed south to our destination. The drive took us a few hours and for most of it we talked about inconsequential things. After we had left the city and were cruising down the highway, I lent over and rested my hand on your pants above your cock. We'd talked about this and you knew what I wanted to do, I could see the grin of anticipation on your face as you quickly glanced at me.

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I had a really shitty day. My secretary quit, to move to Texas with her new boyfriend. Somebody clipped my brand new Porsche in the parking garage, denting the hell out of the passenger side door and both fenders. One of my clients, the Avengers, tore up the hotel they were staying in. And Ozzie Schmuck, the drummer for Snakepit, got busted for coke and can't make the Australia tour.

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I gripped the seat with excitement as the driver turned off of Thomas and into the crowded parking lot of the Veterans Memorial Coliseum in downtown Phoenix Arizona. It was a warm August night in 1982, and the spotlights from the arena caught the flinty dust in the air, creating a sparkling light show above the gravel parking lot as the sleek white limousine headed up to the main entrance. I glanced at Andrea, who was sitting beside me grinning madly.

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