Your erotic stories

Nancy and I have been friends for years. We decided to take a drive down the coast and go to Newport Beach. It was a beautiful day, the end of the summer, school was back in session and this was our last week before going back to teaching school. As we strolled down the Boardwalk, we stopped to watch a volleyball game. "Look at those pecks on that dark-haired guy, Nancy." "Susie, you're a forty-year old woman. What exactly are you thinking?"

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Alexis opened the door in little more than a sheer, silk robe, her full breasts peeking out of the loosely tied bodice. The rotund maintenance man seemed not to notice the tight cleavage peeking up at him, milky skin sneaking out from behind the pale silk. Alexis pouted to herself as she turned, leaving him in the open door. "Shut the door behind you. The man alarm console is by the back door, a secondary one in the master bedroom."

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The thumping bass sound announced the approach of Miguel's car long before Damon saw it come around the corner and pull up to the side of the basketball court. Damon took one last shot, banking the ball off the backboard and through the hoop before jogging over to the high chain link fence surrounding the court where Miguel's car sat on the other side. The passengers side window of Miguel's Camry slid down and Luke leaned out.

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"You get a line, and I'll get a pole, and we'll go fishing in the crawdad hole..." The chorus of young voices finally faded out as Nicole, her two sisters, and their seven kids made it back to camp from their fishing spot on the lake. Despite the still early hour, the heat was already oppressive. Fortunately, there was an easy cure for that.

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Rebecca watched the last of the trick-or-treaters head down the street and checked the clock. With the official hours over, she turned out the porch light and put down the bowl, resisting the urge to indulge with one of the few remaining pieces of candy. She took off her witch hat and shook out a wealth of dark hair, trying not to think about the few strands of gray that she refused to dye — yet.

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As I drove home, I couldn't believe how incredibly frustrated I was -- sexually, that is. I hadn't had sex for months -- with a man, at least. I'd had plenty with little vibrator, but that's just not the same. My husband and I were estranged, probably heading for divorce, and my prospects for the future (sexually) were uncertain. I'd had a dinner meeting that evening with clients that was a last minute thing and I'd been lucky enough to get my regular baby sitter, Kara, on such short notice.

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The opportunity that I hadn't really been looking for happened totally by accident, and certainly not by design. I had the hots for my best mates mother, and had had them for as long as I can remember, I had known him and her for 12 years. I had always been in love with her, it was her ways, her movements, the way she was. I was utterly besotted with her all my life, I hung on every word.

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I have always thought that Betty had a lot of balls to do what she did. Big brass ones. I was at least 20 years younger than Betty and I don't think I had ever exhibited any attraction toward her. She was just another pleasant acquaintance in the workplace. But, like so many of the remarkable women who have graced my life, she knew what she wanted and she had the inner confidence to go for it.

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Betty awakened to the sound of water running in her bathroom. It took her a moment to remember that she hadn't fallen asleep alone. Bill had come to see her that morning. She was laying on her side, facing away from the bathroom door. Looking out the window, she could see, across the Intracoastal Waterway, the cement tile roofs of Ft. Lauderdale as it stretched all the way to the Everglades.

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Chapter One: New York City to Albany. The Port Authority Bus Terminal in New York City, circa 1971, was a very cold and sinister place to hang around, and I made it a point to spend as little time as possible there while waiting for my bus. I was 18 years old and alone, and while I had grown familiar enough with the city to navigate to and from my Aunt Elle's home in Queens, once I entered that dank and dismal bus terminal, I kept to myself as much as possible, and held onto my gym bag very tightly.

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