Your erotic stories

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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"So, what are you going to do for a living?" Vivian asked the young man who was visiting along with her son from college. "I'm retired," Paul Redman replied with a grin. "Uh, you're kind of young for that aren't you?" Vivian asked in confusion. "Yes ma'am, I am." Vivian's son, Cal, said, "Paul was a millionaire by the time he graduated high school." "More like five million," Paul corrected. "Five million by the time you graduated high school! You must be some kind of a genius," Vivian said in shock. She had never met anyone worth that much money.

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I have always loved women. There is just something delightful about femininity and female-ness that has always resonated with me. Even as a child, I found it easier to make friends with girls than with boys. Oh, sure, I played on the sports teams, and engaged in the same kind of rough-and-tumble as the other boys, but females seemed to draw something deeper out of me, something thoughtful, and deeper than just scoring touchdowns, or hitting home runs.

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Bette and I had different travel schedules, so I couldn't see her again for a couple of months. We both had booths at that last big fair of the season, though, and planned to get together then. "And this time," she told me, "I'll get us a real room." My camper-van is fine for just me but not the best for entertaining a lady, even if it had given us a magical first time together.

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Since my husband passed away a few years ago I haven't been in a significant relationship. It didn't find any joy in going through the process of finding a man, figuring out if I liked him, and if he liked me, and then determining what we both wanted from each other. My marriage with my husband had been fantastic. We got along well and raised two wonderful children. We had a great, although not wild, sex life. We were both very passionate, but not compulsive.

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I'm Tom Davis, kid brother of Laura Hughes. I was a 30-year old high school social studies teacher and girls' basketball coach; after five years of coaching, thanks to two athletic sisters on the team, we won the district championship. Often, I saw the superintendent of the schools, Harry Bradley, and his wife, Rita, among the spectators at home games.

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It was going to be a long day, as Saturdays usually were. The weather was beautiful outside, which made me all the more bitter for being stuck at work. Library patrons always seemed more demanding on Saturday afternoons and doubly so on nice ones. They'd simply wave and beckon on me to attend to their needs. A dude has a to have a pretty strong stomach to deal with some of these people. The homeless people and the whores are always hooking up in this place.

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She blew her hair from her face and looked at the flat tire, she then looked down at the white dress she was wearing. She then started to cry and that was how he found her. "Miss?" Kimberly turned around and wiped a tear from her cheek, before looking up at the man in front of her. "Yes?" she asked, though she knew what he was going to ask her.

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Dave was sweating. The sun was warm but not uncomfortably so - it felt considerably milder than the sun back in Orange - but dragging the bag along the street probably hadn't been the best idea. It was well-suited to the task but the route he had decided to take to the hostel he was booked into was rather longer in person than it had seemed on paper. As he trundled down 33rd Avenue, he espied some shady greenery which turned out to be a park.

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It was a feeling more than something I saw. But I paused and took a slow look around. No one was looking at me and the only other customer was a lady about my age pushing a cart through the Produce department. There was that young man with the tool belt sitting on the floor working on one of the display cases. On the back of his jacket it was printed "Jakes Air-condition and Heat." However he seemed to be engrossed in his work.

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