Your erotic stories

Hannah finished packing her things. The divorce was nearly finalized. The split was mutual, with no hard feelings. The 36 year old corporate executive closed the last box and stood in the bedroom she had shared with her soon-to-be ex husband. It was a sad ending to her fairytale life. One by one she carried the boxes away to her car. It wasn't as painful as she expected. She just didn't find the right person.

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"He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff . . ."

The rich, resonating, calming baritone of the La Lectura began to weave Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea for us for perhaps the hundredth time, as we Torcedores settled once more into the rhythm of preparing our bunches of tobacco leaves perfectly for the press. We could not have done our demanding work without La Lectura, the reader who sat on the dais on the cigar factory floor, reading to us, first from the daily press and then from classical works—and sometimes, to our great privilege, reciting poetry to us in perfect rhythm to the set movements of our leaf bundling.

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Several years ago, my wife and I vacationed in Europe for two weeks. I knew that Europeans tend to be more casual about nudity and sex than Americans are, but I was still unprepared (as was my wife) when we decided to visit a spa (called "bad") in Germany. We took a tram up the side of a steep hill to the top and looked down over a beautiful view and a large pool with an even larger deck. "Oh my God," my wife exclaimed as she saw that almost all of the women were lying topless on the deck or soaking that way in the pool.

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Kerri dragged herself up the last flight of stairs to the door of her fifth floor walk-up. She fumbled for her keys, causing one of her grocery bags to crash to the floor. "Fuck!" Of course the can of tomatoes would have landed on her toes. Jamming her key into the lock, she jiggled the stubborn thing and finally got her door opened. She kicked the stray bag inside figuring she couldn't do much more damage to the items inside.

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I just sat there watching in amazement at my wife. I just kept wondering how in the hell did we get here? It was if all of it was happening in slow motion. My mind and my body were numb but my cock was harder than I can ever remember. I am Randy. I am a successful attorney who has been married to my beautiful wife for thirteen years. We were married young and she worked as I went to law school. Both of us are now thirty-five years old. My wife's name is Cassie and she is a knockout still at thirty-five.

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Bill walked into his office after a meeting. He was shocked to find his secretary, Daphne, sitting cross-legged in his large leather chair. "Daphne? What are you doing?" He asked apprehensively while putting on smile. The raven haired assistant brushed her hair. "Hey Bill. I just needed a couple files and seeing as how you were in your meeting, I took the liberty to help myself." She switched legs giving the boss a nice view of her black hose. "And while I was doing so, I discovered something ve~ry interesting."

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This weekend is my birthday. The BIG 4 0. A few months ago I found out about this club a couple hours away that fulfills fantasies. So as a present to myself I booked myself for this weekend. I chose the public display fantasy. I wanted to make sure I would never forget my 40th birthday.

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You pour me another glass of wine, the night air is cooling but the water in the hot tub is keeping us from getting chilled. The party has moved inside but there are still three of us left. You sit snuggled up beside me, legs intertwined under the water. You have one leg over mine and the other spread out to the side, exposing your pussy without being too obvious about it. S sits across from us, we are talking quietly, enjoying the sounds of the night. I had turned off the lights earlier so we could see the stars but the moon and the light from the house allows us to see each other well.

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"Sammy? Sammy!" his mother called from downstairs, the second time a bit more panicky and urgent even though she had hardly given him time to respond to the first. Sam had been lying down on his bed, relieved that the weekend had finally arrived and thinking about what to jerk off to tonight. When he heard the familiar yet annoying sound of his mother calling he sighed, got up, and opened his bedroom door.

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"Silas's Choice." "Say what?" Rocky Hansan asked. "Silas's Choice," I repeated. "You are offering me the same options you offered Silas Collins three years ago. Did you realize that?" "Of course not," the chief of the Near East Division said. "Farthest thing from our minds."

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