Your erotic stories

I couldn't help notice my neighbor when we were setting up our stalls. For one thing, hers was right next to mine. For another, her compact, curvy frame moved with efficient grace as she set her paintings out for display. The big thing, though, was her cropped hair - an elegant cap the color of burnished steel. That, plus a face full of laugh lines (and a few others) really set her apart from the generally younger crowd of artists setting up for the fair. Having someone my own age right there made me feel a bit less ancient.

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She'd had too much to drink. She knew that, but how could she decline an offer from an old friend, especially one that had been friends with her and her husband when he was still living. Grace had been a widow for nearly a year, spending most of which trying to keep it together after losing a husband she had adored and at far too young an age. She was now a 32 year old widow with no kids and trying to readjust her life. This had been the first night she'd made herself accept an offer from a friend to go out to a bar.

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"Kathryn?" I heard her sigh. "Yes Mike, it's me. Kevin is fading, he may not last the day. Will you come?" "I'll call back just as soon as I can confirm my flight. Hold on." Kathryn was his old personal assistant, but was more than that. She was more like the mother he never got to have. While most walked around him fearfully, she chided him for scaring the employees.

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An old Army friend of my husband showed up one day out of the blue. Norman had just bought a business hear our home town and came by to say 'Hi." To my husband. That is how Fred and I became interested in RVing. Norman sold motor homes and travel trailers over in Ohio just across the state line. We visited Norman at the sales lot and Fred was hooked on this as the only way to travel. So we bought a new motor home with all the bells and whistles. We also found out about snow-birding.

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Fading autumn sunset caught the trees as I left the bus. Waited to cross the road, thinking about the last night I'd been with him. Her husband, and my closest friend, Allan. He'd died a few days later, a heart attack in his grim bedsit, during one of their periodic separations. I strode across the park, my head in confusion. Our evening would be difficult enough for me, but I couldn't begin to imagine how hard it would be for Betty.

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Standing at the mirror, Sandy brushed back the stray hair from her face. Then she stepped closer and frowned at the reflection looking back at her. When did the wrinkles appear? Had they always been so deep? Her friends told her she could pass for 40, but she knew they were just being nice. The mirror didn't lie, and it was telling her she looked every one of her fifty-one years.

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Standing in the doorway, she watched the sweat drip down the gardener's chest. The tall, muscular man, had stopped beside the mower and wiped his brow off with a well-tanned arm. She waited restlessly for him to notice that she was standing at the door in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of tiny white underwear. She had been trying to get the man's attention all day.

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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.

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The early morning flight settled softly onto the runway rousing us from our light slumber, the heat of the day burst into the cabin as the main doors opened and the fragrant smells of the island filled the air. We made our way out, gathered our luggage, & shuffled through customs before we finally climbed into our rental car. Kate navigated as we made our way across the island the small beachside villa we'd rented.

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Chapter One Pamela watched the pick-up truck pull into her drive and wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron; her hired hand was here. Her husband had passed away three years ago and she had milked their prize herd all by herself as well tended the farm's crops. For all her hard work she'd finally managed to make the last payment on the small farm and this year opted to hire a full-time summer employee.

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