Your erotic stories

I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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I've always felt attracted to younger men. Some time ago, there was family living next to me in our small neighborhood. This was several years after my husband had died. I'd finally begun to feel somewhat whole again and yet the loneliness was getting me down. I had sexual cravings I hadn't felt in a long time and thought I'd go crazy if they weren't satisfied by someone, and soon.

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Three of us were sitting together in the company cafeteria having lunch. Because all three of us are married men the conversations usually were about sports, politics, money or occasionally, sex. If one of our offspring had done something noteworthy we allowed a little time for parental bragging. All three of us were in the age group where our offspring were either out-of-the-house at college or out-of-the-house married and gone.

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CHAPTER 1 Early morning sun cut through the mist as lean and white-haired Bill Soper rubbed under an armpit and once again thought will he or won't he? On six consecutive mornings the fit-looking 70-year old had looked impassively at the boatshed on the edge of the estuary and returned inside his cottage that he no longer shared with his wife.

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Having finished her shopping Anita decided on a cup of coffee before she made for home. Struggling along the high street with her plastic bags of purchases she arrived at her favourite café and entered. After giving her order she looked around in the hope of seeing someone she knew, but there was no one. The truth was, Anita was a lonely woman. At forty-nine, her two daughters lived far away, and her husband had died from a heart attack, so Anita was lonely.

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He didn't want to be here. Had it not been for his wife's insistence, he would be at the gaming tables in the casino. But a promise is a promise. Jeff stood by the side of the bar and let his eyes roam over the crowd of people. He hated these charity functions. They were the pet project of his wife, Eleanor. And since she had been called out of town on business, she had insisted that he attend in her place.

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"Mae, you still make the best apple pie ever!" my father said, rubbing his full stomach contently. There were hearty agreements from the rest of the adults sitting around the table. Mrs. Nolan's pie wasn't the only dessert out. Our neighborhood's annual block party was winding its way down and the table was covered with some of my favorites. Mrs. Franklin's triple chocolate brownies were amazing and Mrs.

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He looked across again. It was definitely Mrs Jackson - Rhonda - from the house next door. Divorced, kids off at summer camp, and looking red hot in her short summer dress. She looked uncomfortable, too, because the trucker had obviously had too much to drink and was pawing at her. Jerry turned to his friends who were playing pool.

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"Let's go shopping!" said Deepa. The dull gloom of her mothers recent passing away was slowly lifting from the Ganguly household and Deepa had a lot to thank Sunita for that. Her dear friend had come over and spent a few days and that had helped everyone overcome their grief. Especially for father, thought Deepa.

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When I saw Mrs. Crowley at the supermarket I had to smile. The woman who worked down the hall from me looked as good in her recreation clothing as she did in her business attire. That was quite a compliment, because she was always impeccable with her work clothing. Prim and proper, nothing out of place, everything put together quite nicely.

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