Pathways to Pleasure: erotic romance adventures

‘Mildred’. She always hated that name. Thirty-four years ago, her mother named her that, despite her father’s protests. He thought it was too old and stuffy sounding, so he always called her Millie.

Who, Millie wondered, looks down at their cute baby and names it ‘Mildred’? It was a name only used when she was in trouble.

And now, Liam had called her that. It was their first fight in years.

Right after dinner, he said he had something he’d like to talk about, but, yikes, what did he expect her reaction to be?

“What?... Are you kidding me? A swinger’s club?

“Well, Millie, I thought we could, you know, give it a try.”

“I’m not good enough for you? Is that it?”

“No,no. Really. Thats not it. I love you. You know that. It’s just... it feels like we’ve drifted away from each other. We haven’t made love in months and...”

“I’m tired, you know that. I work long hours just like you.”

“I know. I know. But we’ve gotten into a rut. I mean every night in bed you’re on that damn cell phone, we hardly even touch.”

“Don’t blame me, you’re playing with you phone too.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? Every time I reach for you, you tell me you’re too tired.”

“That’s because I am. I just want to relax before going to sleep.”

“Yeah, fine. But tired every friggin’ night?”

Millie frowned. “Well, you’re not exactly Mr. Romance either. The closest you come to kissing me is that little peck you give me when we head off to work.”

“Mill’s I don’t want to fight. I was just thinking maybe we could, you know, try something a little different.”

“But a swing club?”

“Well, Millie, I just thought It might spice things up to see other couples making love, and, maybe us too.”

“Liam, you mean, make love in the same room with other couples watching us?”

“Yeah. And we’d be watching them to. It might be...”

“No! No way.” She stood up.

“Mildred, I think you’re over-reacting. It was just a suggestion, I...”

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” Millie stomped to the door leading out to their garden and slammed it shut. Liam knew better than to follow her. The garden was her place, her little sanctuary.

Frustrated, and maybe feeling a little guilty for upsetting her, Liam went off to bed.

Moonlight dancing on the koi pond usually calmed her, but not that night. The more she thought about Liam’s proposal, the angrier she got.

But later, laying beside him in bed, watching him sleep, Millie knew he loved her. They’d known each other since secondary school, went to the same university, marrying soon after graduation.

They’d always been faithful to each other. Their relationship was rock solid.

So what, she wondered, got him to thinking about such a thing?

Still, the sight of his bare, uncovered chest, his clean manly scent, and the warmth of his body, was doing its thing to her. She squeezed her legs together and wondered what it would be like to play with him in a room full of other people. What would it be like to watch other women admiring his body as he moved on top of her?

Millie rolled on her back, opened her legs and began moving her fingers over her moistening lips, caressing her hardening nib.

She imagined riding on top of Liam, a man watching her even while he mounted his woman. Moving up and down on Liam’s shaft and arching her back to put on a good show for her admirer.

The orgasm came fast and powerful. Millie cuddled down next to Liam and let sleep descend upon her as she wondered what it would be like to see Liam with another woman.

Sometimes Millie had to leave for work an hour earlier than Liam, so he was used to waking up to an empty house and fixing his own breakfast.

But today, toasted crumpets, two hard-boiled eggs, and a bowl of fruit were arranged on the table.

A note, slipped under the juice glass had one word... “maybe.”

Millie loved her job. The magazine’s readership was moving away from the printed version, so she was tasked with overseeing the company’s digital media division— writing and editing blog posts and other social media.

She had two stories to write, another from the news desk to edit, and research to do for next week’s lead. But today she found herself just staring at the computer monitor. She couldn’t let go of Liam’s suggestion.

Maybe I could write an exclusive for the magazine, she laughed to herself. Yeah... an in depth expose on London’s most horny couples and their swinger friends... of course she’d have to do a lot of in-the-field research. Millie laughed out loud.

“What so funny?” Her boss’s booming voice shook her back to reality.

“Oh, ah, it was... nothing, just nothing.”

“Kind of like what I’m seeing on that screen in front of you... nothing, just nothing,” he laughed. “We’ve got a lot to do today, get with it.”

“Yes, of course.” Millie did...

The cab driver glanced at the young woman in back. “You new here?”

Though she tried to appear sophisticated, Kathy knew she looked out of place in the city. “Does it show?”

“Yeah, a little,” the cabbie laughed. ”Let me guess, you’re a runaway from Kansas hoping Seattle is your Emerald City over the rainbow?”

“Something like that... Ohio actually.”

The taxi pulled over. “Here you are, 217 Seneca. Good luck, Dorothy,” he joked.

Kathy paid him, grabbed her suitcase and stepped out. The apartment building looked worn out and dusty, but inside it had an inviting, old school ’80s feel to it.

Her room, however, was a different story with its cold, white walls and bare linoleum floor.

‘Was this a mistake?’ she wondered.

Her Mom had tired to stop her. “It’s crazy,” she’d said. “All you have is a job interview waiting for you out there. No guaranteed work and just a couple months of money. What are you thinking?”

But now, standing in the empty room, 2000 miles from home, Kathy felt like she’d gone to the other side of the planet. Maybe Mom was right.

Taking another look around the room she knew with a little inexpensive decorating she could warm up her two-room apartment. “No,” she said out loud. “This feels right. This little country gal is going to take on Seattle and make it hers.

____________________________

”Tom Bronson hated parties—this one especially. It was filled with socialites, lazy people born into old money, and women trying to be someone, anyone, other than who they were. Hoping to marry into that money, they circled the rich like sharks looking for an easy kill.

“Oh, shit," he muttered to himself, “here comes one now.”

“Tommy, darling, are we having a good time? They told me you’d be here. I missed you at last week’s yacht club gala. Where ever were you?”

“Hello, Cybil.”

He knew those were the only two words she’d allow him to squeeze into their conversation. He tried to keep up, be polite, but as she babbled on about parties, charity banquets, who’s marrying, who’s divorcing, who died—his interest was plunging lower than her neckline.

Finally she took a breath, giving him a brief opportunity to jump in. “Sorry, Cybil, but I have to leave. Here, you can have my drink if you like.”

Before she could answer, he handed her his glass and ducked away, hoping no one would notice his escape attempt. But two sharks were swimming by the door.

“Oh, Tom, we were hoping to...”

“Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“But, really you should stay...”

“No, sorry. Important meeting. Gotta go.”

As he stepped out to the street, he felt like a lucky seal who’d somehow managed to escape the jaws of death.

The wealthiest man in the city, he always felt out of place in so-called ‘high society.’ His was a fortune made from hard work, careful planning, and taking calculated risks––all things he’d learned when a teenager, working on his father’s boat.

His dad had a way of wrapping up a world of wisdom into one simple sentence. “You won’t make it out here, son, unless you keep your eye on the weather, chart a steady course through these seas, and put your back to the work.”

Tom missed him.

____________________________

Kathy put down two grocery bags and then remembered she hadn’t closed the door.

“Hey, neighbor!”

A smiling face peaked in throwing a flurry of non-stop words.

“Hi, my name’s Megan, but everyone calls me Meg. I’m right across the hall from you. Oh, I’m so glad this room will finally have a happy person in it. The old man that lived her shot himself, you know.”

Kathy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Oh yeah, right there in the middle of the room. Blood everywhere.”

“Oh, my god!”

Meg laughed. “Kidding, kidding. I couldn’t resist.”

“Meg!”

“Sorry about that. Here, I brought you something to eat. There’s enough for two if you wouldn’t mind inviting a mean, prankster neighbor in.”

“Ah, yes, sure, thanks. Come in. I’m Kathy.” Despite the weird introduction, Kathy knew that Meg would become her best friend.

They spent the next three days scrounging around antique shops, Good Will, and even an old book store. With Meg’s help, by the end of the week the apartment was much cozier.

“So, tomorrow’s the big day?” Meg asked.

“Yes, I’m a bit nervous. It’s my first job interview since graduating.”

“Where’s it at? The interview I mean.”

“Bronson Marine Industries.”

Meg jumped to her feet. “Bronson Marine? Holy shit! You’re going to work for Tom Bronson?”

"I take it by the name he’s the owner?” Kathy asked.

“You really don’t know about Bronson? He’s the most handsome rich guy in this city. And, added benefit, he’s never married.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll ever meet him. I might not even get the job. And if I do, it’s a big company, I’ll be a lowly design tech off in...

It was a windy, gray autumn day, but Aryn didn’t mind. She never let the weather stop her. Every day, five times a week, she did the one mile jog from her house to the Coast Guard Station. She’d skippered rescues boats for three years. But today was special.They’d be trying out their new one, a 45 foot RB-M. The boat was named Tilly, after some Rear Admiral’s dog.

She stopped at the top of the hill and looked out over the sea.

Five foot swells were rolling in, wisps of sea-spry blowing off their tops. In the distance she could see the flag at the station flying straight out. It’s going to be a rough one out there today, she thought with a smile. Aryn loved being out on the water, the rougher the better.

She’d spent most of her teenage years working with her father hauling in salmon on his purse seiner. The sea was part of her DNA, she couldn’t imagine living inland.

Aryn sucked in the clean salt air and finished her down-hill run to the station. No one was in yet. She always arrived early enough to take a shower and get ready for her day. Finally, wet and clean, Aryn was toweling off when she heard the crew.

Barney, Aryn’s second in command, shouted at the entrance to her shower room, his voice echoing on the tile walls. “You in there? Coffee’s on.”

“Yeah, Barney. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Working uniform on, Aryn grabbed a cup. “You boys ready to take the new boat out?”

Tom, the new guy, nervously looked out the window. “You sure this is a good day for it?”

“Don’t worry rookie,” she said. “Tilly will do just fine.” Aryn gave Barney a wink. “The boats designed to right herself if she capsizes. I’m told that actually works. Well, at least most of the time.”

“You’re kidding right?”

Barney returned Aryn’s wink. “No, really, They tested it. The boat popped back up after a knock-down at least, what was it Aryn? Five times out of ten?”

“Come on,” Aryn laughed. “Let’s take her out.”

The wind was howling through the trees as Aryn climbed aboard, ran the blower, then started Tilly up. Barney and the rookie cast off the lines, then joined Aryn in the cabin as she backed the boat from the dock and headed out.

When they cleared the breakwater Aryn turned Tilly west to meet the waves head on. The boat’s bow rose at each crest and plunged down in every trough. Aryn turned the boat sideways to the waves causing it to rock violently side to side. Tom was turning green.

Barney whispered, “You’re being a little hard on the kid, ain’t ya?”

“Just testing Tilly out,” Aryn laughed. But she nodded to Barney and pointed the bow back into the waves, slowing the engine down.

“Well, would’jah look at that,” Barney exclaimed.

“What?” said Aryn.

“To our starboard, there about 100 feet out.”

A small boat, maybe only 18 feet long was passing them, heading into the swells at full throttle, jumping out of the water as it crested each wave.

Barney looked through the binoculars, then handed them to Aryn. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said.

“Take the wheel, Barn.” Aryn stepped to the window, searched through the powerful lenses, then spotted the boater. “Is that...?”

“Yep. One of those fair-weather ski boats with nice cushy seats in the front so you can get a tan.”

“Damn”, she said. “Open bow.” As she watched, the driver waved. He was laughing.

“Well,” said Barney, “Looks like he’s having a good time.”

“Good Time?” said Aryn. “I’ll bet ya dollars to donuts the idiot’s going to drive deep into a wave and swamp that thing.”

The small boat headed off towards the islands, but Barney kept Tilly straight. “Well, we can check up on him on our run back.

Barney and Aryn took turns at the wheel, putting Tilly through her paces. The rookie finally got his color back and was working the deck.

Let’s go check on that halfwit and his boat now,” Aryn said. "It looked like he was heading towards Matia. Maybe he’s there.”

She pushed Tilly to 3/4 throttle. Within minutes they were a half mile out from the island. Aryn squinted her eyes. “What’s that?”

“Where?” Barney asked.

There, on the reef.”

“Barney grabbed the binoculars. “Ah... looks like you might’a been right. That’s our friend.”

As they approached she could clearly see a man, standing on the reef waving, this time not laughing. His boat was half sunk, banging against the rocks.

“Damn it, I hate being right. Who the hell is that guy? Did he leave his brains back on shore.”

“I don’t know,” said Barney. “But if we don’t do somethin’ his brains are going to be all over those rocks.”

Aryn pulled up closer, but held back. “There’s no way we can get to him. If we try we’’ll likely pile Tilly up on the reef. Barney, call it in. We’ll have the chopper fly out and pick him up.

“I don’t think we’ll need to do that.”

“What?”

“He just dove in.”

Aryn’s ey...

He didn’t meet you at the airport. You were gone three months and he only sent his driver? The driver handed you a note. It just read, “I have a special place for us to meet this time.”

You thought you knew Kauai pretty well, but after the driver left town and turned down a dirt road, you were lost. He finally stopped the car and walked around to open your door.

There were no buildings–nothing, anywhere. He was dropping you off at the edge of the forest. Seeing you were worried, he said, “It’s okay. He’s here. There’s a note on a tree over there. He just wants you to follow the trails. I’m sure he’ll take good care of you.”

The drivers eyes seemed to glint a little with that last comment. Or was it just your imagination?

As the car left, you headed for the tree the driver had pointed out. There was a light rain, the kind Kuaii is known for, the kind you barely notice. The droplets were so tiny. It was more like a mist.

It wasn’t the weather bothering you. He’d actually had you delivered, well, nowhere. Alone.

As you stepped into the forest, your shoulder brushed an Orchid leaf which bowed gracefully, spilling its cool water down your back. “Damn him,” you muttered to yourself. The rain softened the front of your blouse as you walked––not soaking it, just lightly nourishing it with moisture.

The first note was pinned to a tree right where the driver said it would be. You frowned, this stunt better lead me to him, and when it does, we’re going to have words.

The handwriting was quite impressive for a man. He must have taken special care with each letter.

"I'm so glad you came. Don’t be mad. I know you didn’t like being dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Be patient, you’ll like what you find. Now follow this path until it splits into three, You’ll find another note there. Come, my love. I await you.”

Some sort of bird sang a lonely song in the distance. A small brook was splashing somewhere nearby, but the forest was too thick to see it. The rain stopped and the lush green leaves all around you were steaming from the warm sunshine flooding through the trees.

Though the forest was thick, the path was clear and bathed in light. It was nothing like the forests back in Washington State. Most everything growing around you would be considered house plants back home.

You spotted the next note, tacked to a Breadfruit tree. Before you lay the three paths.

"I can hardly wait," it read. "The birds are so beautiful here, their songs fill the place. It is perfect for us. Take the path to your left. It will be a bit of a walk to the next note, but I promise all this will be worth it."

You smiled. His romantic gestures were winning you over. Somehow the forest seemed more inviting with its steamy leaves, moist ground, sunlight... and there was a man waiting for you. The thought sent a little tingle between your legs.

The note was right; it was a bit of a walk––more than a bit actually. Halfway there a parakeet leapt off a branch above you and flew away. You ducked and screamed a little too, then laughed as you realized the bird was just as startled as you were.

The trail slanted uphill making you inhale deeper as you climbed. You wondered if that wasn’t part of his plan. Perhaps he was watching you as your breasts rose with each deep breath.

Finally, you spotted another note on a large boulder, held there by a small rock.

“You’re here, my love. You’ve arrived. Look up and to your left.”

You turned and realized that just in front of you the trail opened into a broad meadow, bathed in sunlight. You stepped out into the clearing and looked up. There, not more than 50 feet away, was your man standing on a rock shelf. No shirt and cotton pants that hung much lower than they should. A thin wall of water was falling gracefully behind him into a small pool that you guessed was feeding the brook you heard earlier.

Light reflected from the sunlit meadow gave his tanned body a golden hue. He waved and nimbly stepped on three boulders and jumped to ground level. Then slipped on some loose moss and fell on his butt.

You laughed and took his hand to help him up. Well, it was really just a gesture since his muscular body was way too heavy for you to actually be of any help.

“Not exactly the entrance I was planning,” he said laughing. Taking your hand he lead you toward the waterfall. “Come, I want you to see our room.”

“Room?” you said.

He lead you on a small path taking you behind the waterfall. Now you understood. The ‘room’ was a small cave. The pond in front collected the falling water and flowed into a small stream leaving the cave dry and untouched.

“This,” he said proudly, “is our room for the evening.”

In the center of the cave, a bit to the back, he’d made a bed––a thick mattress of leaves covered in soft moss. On top was a foam covering to protect from moistu...

In this erotic romance, you meet an old High School flame who leads you on a path of passion, love, sex, and ultimately freedom from a bad marriage.

Pathways to Pleasure is an erotic romance podcast. We believe erotica should be more than just sex. Our erotic stories mix sex, really good sex, with love and romance, raising your passions in a slow burn, pulling desire from deep within you, until, at last, they climax in raw, sexual release.

Erotic romance author, James Jobe, publishes one episode each month, taking time to lovingly write stories you can escape into on your pathway to pleasure.