Your erotic stories

"Asshole," Jeri said out loud as she drank a tall glass of water near the kitchen sink. Jeri stared lazily at the backyard where the young neighbor was mowing and trimming the backyard. It had been a task he had completed every summer for them for several years. Jeri and her husband had paid him well for his work, which wasn't so good when he first started, but became better and better. Being a scorching day, he was out there with his shirt off. Jeri would watch if she was home when he worked, but never fathomed the idea of anything more.

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Although Jo took Ann to the same area several more times following their encounter with the voyeur, the man never reappeared. At least, not physically. But he remained vivid in Ann's imagination. At home, Roger's attentions continued to be spasmodic and unsatisfying, and while meetings of the Friday Flower Club, supplemented by private sessions with Jo, delivered orgasms of varied intensity, Ann was growing conscious of something missing.

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My preference is for stories are all about the sex rather than with vast amounts of background, so this is in that vein. The plot is based loosely on a story I read many, many years ago; I don't recall the author or title. I'd love to say this happened to me but that would be ludicrous: the scenario is a sexual fantasy and not meant to be completely realistic.

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"So?" Jason asked as he rolled up at the bottom of the drive on his mountain bike. Robert held up his phone, showing the message from his older brother with two specifically capitalized words in an otherwise innocuous message — care package. "Sweet. Let's roll." The pair set out on the gravel road, riding even deeper into the middle of nowhere. Living out in the country certainly had its disadvantages, but there were a few things that helped offset the boredom and inconvenience. One of them was the lack of prying eyes.

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Let's start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood. The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda. The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, "You're single?" The customer grins and nods his head. "You can tell by my meal, huh?" And the girl says, "No, you're fuckin' ugly." It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.

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"Thank god that's over," said Liz as we tidied away the presentation material. "Hey, you were great," I said. "Never missed a beat." And she hadn't. Liz Morton, from head office. Fortyish, maybe ten or twelve years older than me, but slim and attractive in her tailored suit. She smiled. "Nor did you, on the technical queries."

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ONE Randi surveyed the large hotel suite as the bellboy took care of her luggage. The room offered two plush queen beds and a large front living area with two leather couches, a wet-bar with a marble top and a gas fireplace. She tipped the belloy handsomely even though she caught him openly leeering at her on numerous occasions. Although in her late forties with two children in school, Randi Boehmon could still turn heads. A petite woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes set above high cheekbones, she was oftentimes told that she resembled Kelly Ripa.

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Sandra shook her head and sighed as she listened to her daughter talking to her boyfriend in the next room. "You have got to be kidding me, right?" "C'mon Jen, it'll be fun. Ron and Angela and Wendy and Greg will be there." "A stupid protest? Please." "We could end up on T.V."

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I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.

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Several pictures of her were tucked into the sides of the mirror over his dresser. Most were school pictures, and one was of the two of them together, their arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling at the camera. My hand, holding the brush that I had picked up from amidst the clutter on his dresser, stopped in mid-air as I peered at those pictures.

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