Want to share adult sensual romance stories?

I hope to know a few writers of short stories like one I will start below who might wish to share and comment on each others' stories. Send a note to me in Australia. Cheers.





Kate sees a man sitting between the handrails above the steps into Mrs Bunton's pool. She 鈥?the owner of the villa 鈥?is swimming toward him from the opposite side. The pool's interior water-lights are set low, and, as Kate's angle of view is poor, she isn't certain if he is wearing a bathing suit. Since coming to California she learned swimming naked is not unusual, but she is more curious about who he might be.





Sandy-haired and lean, he looks like the pharmacist, Mrs Bunton's gay friend. But Tony, from a distance, looks the same. Tony has been up-grading the villa's electrical system. This man, perhaps forties, looks he could be either.





Curious, yes, but Kate is not surprised if he is naked. It would be unthinkable, however, for Mrs Bunton to swim without her sturdy, one-piece, faded-from use, light-brown swimwear.





Before Kate left, driving to Portand, Mrs Bunton, had said, the tone cheerful, "I remember those vacation times. No classes. Time to forget papers and exams. So have a good time. I won't be back until Sunday either. Maybe late. I'm going," she sighs for effect "to a boring bankers' conference in Los Vegas. Bye Kate."





No one was to be at the villa this weekend.





From Kansas 鈥?her college-friends' affectionately call her 'Katy-Kansas' 鈥?saves on room-costs by gardening at the villa. Her room is at the opposite end from the sumptuous master suite.





Divorced, years ago, Clara Bunton, is still thought of and addressed as 'Mrs Bunton.' Until Kate got to know her better, she seemed formal, almost stern. She is a large woman. Perhaps a little overweight, but her large frame permits a brisk walk. She carries and dresses herself well, knows never to wear jeans, nor heels. In her mid-forties, she commands respect.





At half-past nine, Friday, when Kate drove her Toyota into the parking area, she was surprised to see Mrs Bunton's Mercedes-Benz, but thought, she must have gone to Los Vegas with another banker, so it was a second surprise to see her swimming in the pool.





It rained continually in Portland so Kate decided her time was better-spent getting a head-start on the new term. She is in a demanding, pre-nursing program at Napa Valley College. After eight hours of driving, the first three in the rain, she gratefully drops her travel bag on the floor of her room and slips into a two-piece bathing suit. About ten o'clock, bare-foot, she takes the stone trail toward the swimming pool, thinking a few laps will relax her and she will sleep better.





Not wanting to intrude on Mrs Bunton, but curious about the man, Kate 鈥?who knows the grounds well 鈥?steps off the downward trail unto a dirt path leading up and right. A better viewing angle. She leans against an Elm and 鈥?as her father taught her 鈥?she curls the fingers of her right hand to make a 'telescope.'





Closing her left eye she peers through her 'telescope.' Still unable to decide if it is Tony or the pharmacist, she does see 鈥?no surprise 鈥?he is naked. He is sitting upright, arms wrapped around the hand-rails. Legs hang loose over the edge, casually spread. Since the light is coming from below, Kate cannot see his penis. She squints.





Kate entertains a probability. Most likely Tony. The pool had been drained and he changed the lights from a modern cool-blue to soft amber. Yes, she concludes, Mrs Bunton invited him so he could see the results of his handiwork at night. That bankers' meeting must have been particularly boring.





Kate sees the new lights cast a warmer, more-inviting glow. Tony also fixed the electrical system controlling the Jacuzzi that is located left of her, up the hillside, on the patio. For a moment, she thought, since the Jacuzzi is warm....





Deciding against that, she watches Mrs Bunton's strong strokes. She competed in college. She has the broad shoulders of a swimmer. She slows as she approaches the steps.





Since the view is wider without the curled fingers, Kate watches as the swimmer halts and stands facing the guy, who draws his thighs together.....|||I would not be discouraged by the two so and so limited-range answers you have. They are too diminished to see the possibilities of your beginning. Good on ya. I will send you a yahoo message.|||No, thank you.|||If you had LGBT stories, I might humor you %26amp; drop you a line. But I'm not a big fan of het stories.