Your erotic stories

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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Saturday: I arrived at the address to collect the key for my holiday house in Spain. I knocked on the door and a young man answered. A very handsome young man! He was about twenty or twenty-one and had beautiful dark brown eyes, black hair and a deep suntan. "I'm Kay and I've come to collect the key for the holiday home I'm renting for the week." "Right," he said, looking me up and down, "I'll get my mother."

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I haven't always been like this. There was a time, as a younger woman, when I moved through the day without noticing everyone I encountered with the same eye for elements as I do now. Back then, a face was not a porthole to the inside world of men and women. The posture and carriage of a body did not reveal the food consumed, emotional baggage lugged, and the psycho/sexual energy of a personality. However, somewhere along the way, I developed these insights into people that left me feeling somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophet.

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My parents had prepared a welcome home party for their Marine Sergeant son coming back from a tour of combat duty. It was a food and booze feast attended by various relatives, neighbors and family friends wanting to hear war stories. As glad as I was to be home among relatives, I had a problem that overshadowed all feelings. I was horny, extremely horny after a year of living in a hostile land, masturbating to keep my sanity.

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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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Simon walks up the small staircase in front of the big, old house and rings the doorbell. Simon's older brother, Peter, lives in the house with several friends. Peter have told Simon about their open attitude towards clothing and sex and Simon is anxious, or actually quite nervous, but also curious, now that he is visiting the collective for the first time. He is glad that he already knows Peter and Peter's girlfriend Johanna.

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Veronica Andrews felt the familiar pressure on her bladder the moment she awoke. She turned her head and saw the alarm clock on the bedside table showed 12:47, and she rolled out of bed gently not to wake her husband. In silent bare feet on carpet she quickly and quietly made her way in the dark to the bathroom. She did her business in dimmed light, and as she walked out the bathroom door a surge of curiosity got her attention.

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