Erotic realism Stories

She takes her clothes off in the dark. No particular reason, just that it's late and she's alone, and her body has been quietly insisting all evening. She knows that feeling. Lies back on the bed, ceiling above her, the street outside quiet, a car passing occasionally, someone's telly through the wall, and lets her hand find its way down. Already warm. Already wet. Her body knowing before she does. She closes her eyes. Th...

Chapter 1 Joel sat two seats from the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey he didn't even like. Third time here in as many weeks. Same stool, same drink. Same quiet hope something might feel different tonight. The first two nights, he'd said nothing to anyone but the bartender, paid in cash, and walked home to an apartment that didn't echo unless he wanted it to. Three months divorced. Not that anyone was counting. He hadn't...

I cycle to the café like I always do on Thursdays with the usual vague hope that I’ll get one of the big tables by a socket point before the laptop crowd takes them all. I’ve felt sluggish all morning and the ride wakes me up a little, pulling my mind into my body. By the time I arrive I’m flushed and a bit too warm, legs humming and skin prickling with the remnants of effort. I don’t think of it as going there for him, n...

I don’t have much of a view from my desk. Just the face of another building, the kind with wide balconies that jut out from expensive-looking walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. It’s the kind of place that invites viewing, but I’d never seen anything worth looking at. Until this morning. She stepped out onto one of the balconies with a watering can in hand and her robe tied at the waist, the knot loose enough that it slipped...