Your erotic stories

When I first moved to Chicago from the country I was pretty shy and nervous. It wasn't easy to make friends. I started dating a nice girl from work and had great fun for a few months. Then she went away to college and I found myself alone and miserable.

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One summer afternoon, April Price waited stoically in line at the check stand in the small, upscale supermarket where she bought most of her groceries. The old woman in front of her had a whole cartful, so April passed the time by looking at the covers of the array of fan magazines on display. When all the old woman's purchases had been rung up and bagged and paid for, the checker asked her the question he asked all customers.

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It was just the usual lunch with the guys at work when Jeff noticed her. Check out the M.I.L.F. 3 o'clock, He blurted a bit too loud. I didn't know who it was at first I just felt a petite woman brush by me her perfume leaving feminine floral scent behind her. Turning my head instinctively I saw tan muscled legs in sheer black hose leading into a tight formal black skirt.

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Valerie Templeton was a beautiful woman. Every time Tommy went to his friend Mike's house he loved to watch her. The way she moved, the open way she talked, and of course, the wonderful way she smelled as she walked passed him. Mike and Tommy were on the front porch just making plans for the weekend when Mrs. T pulled in the driveway. Mike kept talking about where they would go and who they would meet, but Tommy was no longer listening.

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Last fall, when I was starting my graduate studies at NYU film school, I found myself sexually frustrated and unhappy with the guys I was meeting. The sex was OK, but nothing really special. I think that's kind of understandable because, after all, we were mostly all in our early 20s and not very experienced. Plus, if I was to be really honest, the guys I met (and I include myself here) were kind of immature and unworldly. We barely knew who we were, let alone capable of thoughtful, meaningful and satisfying sexual relationships.

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My parents leased an old farm house belonging to a small estate as a summer house. I had spent all my summers there since being a kid. It was very nice although sometimes a bit lonely for a young boy. But the summer when I had turned 18 Thomas had moved to the estate with his parents. Although he was a year older we quickly made friends. We talked for hours of girls and sex and getting laid. He also had some porn magazines that we studied until they tore apart.

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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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I dashed for the phone, hoping to answer it before the voicemail picked up. "Hello," I said, breathing hard. "Ken, it's Sam Clemens." No, not that Sam Clemens. Sam is Samantha Clemens. She and her husband Dave live about two miles from me on Huckleberry Hill Road. We have the only houses for miles, so we've become pretty good neighbors. Dave is a realtor in town. He has done very well financially selling commercial real estate, and it shows.

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