Your erotic stories

"Paul, would you like to go and house-sit for Aunty Jean on Friday evening?" his mother asked. Engaged in trying to write a tutorial paper on the computer for next morning – a paper he should have been prepared two days before – Paul asked suspiciously, "Why?" "Oh well, the girl she usually has can't make it, and Jean's booked a seat for the opera, and as she'll probably be home late she says you can stay overnight."

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This is a complete story, although there is a sequel possible if reader interest is there. *** To the rest of our family, Grandma Rose was - let's be charitable and use the word "eccentric". In the words of my mother, my father's mother was a "nuttier than a fruitcake" and often suggested that she be put in a rubber room somewhere.

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Oh, God! I just wanted to hide! I wished with all my heart that the Earth would just open up and swallow me. This must be a dream. How could I have ever gotten myself into a situation like this? Tawdry! Unseemly! Look at them out there. Four young men dressed in their work jeans and boots leaned on their picks and shovels - Boys, really. They were all in their late teens or early twenties. Each was shirtless on this unexpectedly hot and humid day in early September. The sun gleamed off of their youthful sweaty bodies.

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Have you ever found yourself in a situation, you knew many would consider wrong? No, I'm not talking murder wrong, so calm down, dear reader. I guess to tell this story right; I have to begin at the beginning of my story. A while back (no, I'm not telling you when, as for all I know, the wrong person or people are reading this) I was helping a friend move into her new place. Now, I know, helping a friend move isn't a bad thing, but it was what happened after that was, well, so to speak. My friend had a nice neighbor, a widowed father with three boys: Bobby -- 20, Dawson -- 18, and Elliot -- 12.

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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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Chapter One: My best friend's mother. "I swear Robbie, if you tell anybody about what I'm going to show you, I'll fucking kill you," Ted warned me, and judging my the veins bulging in his neck and the crimson color of his face, he probably meant it. The madman look was something that Ted had inherited from his father, a hothead who had abandoned ship many years ago, leaving Ted and his mother to fend for themselves while he went to make other people's lives miserable, I assumed.

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During his senior year of high school Jeremy Richards decided he was going to work on changing his life, he had always gotten good grades in school and was always considered to be well behaved. He never tried playing sports and he was always thirty pounds overweight so this year he decided he was going to play sports along with his academics. In the fall he played soccer and he did make the team but sat the bench most of the year getting to play in the last game for a few minutes.

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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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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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My Aunt Jessie had been threatening for several weeks to call me over to her house for me to give her another massage after I'd massaged both her and Mom with baby oil in our back yard one afternoon and she finally did it. I got home from work and was showering in the mud room when, as usual, I heard Mom call out, "That you, Hut?"

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