Your erotic stories

CHAPTER 1 Wealthy widow Clara Wells (52) was assisting with catering at the Fairmont 84-lap annual Golden Oldies 150 at the 1.8-mile car racetrack as part of her charity work when a tanned graying guy showing immaculate teeth and dressed in an orange racing suit with sponsors' emblems plastered all over it, came up to her and said, "Hi gorgeous... a chicken salad sandwich and glass of milk please."

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When my friend Tracy asked me to be a groomsman in her wedding I said sure. What else could I say? Tracy and I had dated briefly our freshman year, but we both knew right away it wasn't going to work & instead we became close friends. She met Dave our senior year and now, three years later, they were getting hitched. Dave was a good guy and I liked him, but it still felt a bit weird. It was a three-hour drive to the town Tracy grew up in, and during the drive I found that I was looking forward to the whole thing.

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"Jessica... so good to see you again." Harry took her hand and helped her out of the car, leaning down to press a warm kiss to her cheek. He inhaled her sweet fragrance, lilies of the valley. His wife had planted them all around the foundation of their house when they married. Elise was gone but the flowers continued to bloom every year, just when it was time to start opening the windows.

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Have you ever run into an old lover and wondered what would have happened if you had stayed together? Tiffany Ann Thomas and I were an item in our junior years of college at "State". We were inseparable. Each of us had lost our virginity a couple years before, Tiffany to a high school boyfriend and me a year later in my freshman year at college.

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I sat with my feet up, flipping through random television channels as I repeatedly glanced at the clock on the wall. Although I fully trusted my fiancé, I knew how crazy bachelorette parties could get. Even so, it wasn't Lacey's behaviour that I was concerned about. I was far more worried about how my friend Jenna was fitting in with my girlfriend and her comparatively snooty friends.

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It's a beautiful day. A cool breeze blows, lessening the warming effects of the shining sun which has already begun its descent into the horizon. The smell of freshly cut grass and fragrant flowers adds to the ambience, creating a soothing environment as the sounds of music begin to fill the air. I lounge back in my seat, relishing the warming sensation that begins to fill my body as I enjoy my fourth gin and tonic of the afternoon.

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"It was your job to get him here on time. You do know, I hope, that the Best Man tradition started as being the bride's Best Man because he got the groom to the altar. You should never have taken him drinking after the rehearsal dinner last night." "I never expected to get so drunk that I'd lose him." "Pathetic..." the last comment came from the corner of the tiny bridal waiting room at the old church. Kristy, Carol's maid of honour, "I bet you aren't even hung over because you're still drunk."

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It is the little things that capture the imagination. The devil - the horny little devil - is in the detail. My eye is always drawn to the smaller picture. You can keep your supermodel looks and your Harvard MBAs, I'm far more likely to be drawn to a nicely turned ankle, the shape of a bra through a top, or a skirt curving neatly and snugly around an ass.

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Greetings and salutations dear readers. The story you are about to read is a narration of one of my most cherished memories. The incident happened when I and my wife took a vacation to Las Vegas. Now I know what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but this experience was something worth sharing. Well before I get too ahead of myself, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sameer and I am the Non-resident Indian counterpart of what American's call the Average Joe.

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Marie and I were serving drinks at a post-wedding-rehearsal-dinner party our boss' restaurant had catered. It was a fun group, the wedding guests about a hundred-twenty strong and the crowd sticking around for the after-dinner party somewhere in the sixty or seventy range. If there's such a thing as a good place to get hurt or sick, this was it.

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