Your erotic stories

Harvey sat in his office. Looking up from his desk, he watched as Mary, his secretary approached his desk. She wore her normal work attire. Mini skirt, high heels, stockings, and tight blouse. Like all of his personal female employees, she was in her late 20's to early 30's. She was loyal to a fault, meticulous in her work habits, and submitted to any and every whim that Harvey requested of her. She had only been working for him for 1 year but in that year, she had proven herself over and over. As he watched her slow walk, he felt his dick twitch in anticipation. She came around his desk and bent to place the papers on it.

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"You are joking. Please tell me you're joking?" I doubted my mother understood the desperation in my voice, but I was disgusted and disappointed. How could she do this? "I'm not joking Chris." My Mom was still calm, oblivious to reality as usual. "I told Megan to call you. She'll be in town next week and I thought it would be wonderful if you could take her to dinner. It's not like you have this busy social life and you can't fit her in. You're always telling me that you don't get out enough."

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I was laying on the moonlit bed of our recently converted spare room, looking out the low window wondering at the changes moonlight makes on the flowers and trees in full bloom in these late days of spring. The window was open letting in the cool, scent filled air. While I missed my children I was enjoying the peace and quiet of being an empty nester, of being young enough to enjoy it. Feeling so calm and at peace I dozed off.

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It was to be a beautiful long weekend George had booked the tickets, the train and the bridal suite at a top Paris hotel. Meeting him under the big clock at Victoria seemed the perfect place, a place where lovers meet, usually first timers, so no one knows how many romances have blossomed from this point.

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Steve had thought that he'd have a quiet Saturday afternoon to himself. The house was empty. His wife had gone shopping with friends, the boys were out with their mates and Kirsty had to go to the library to complete the paper she had to write. She'd hoped not to go, but found she was missing some information at the last minute and so had to make a quick dash.

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Part 1 It was almost 7:30 in the evening as I made my way east on West 53rd toward my hotel when the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. I didn't have an umbrella, of course, because - even though my hotel had complimentary ones - men don't use umbrellas...so they can get wet...because that makes us cool. But, instead of being cool, I decided to get dry and have a drink.

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You Are Not My Father. That was what my daughter Amy said to me. She was right of course, we had not met until she was twelve but much to the amazement of the three of us we got along well from the start. I did all the Dad things and perhaps a few more. I took her out on a to dinner dates on her birthdays, just the two of us. I taught her to drive. I was always dressed and polite when her friends came over.

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Some men do better alone than others. I do better with a healthy female companion who enjoys being active, talking, kissing and touching. However, after "losing" my wife of thirty years to Alzheimer's, three years ago, I found that I was really out of practice as how to approach the "modern woman." I'm healthy, successful and attentive but was not getting anywhere by trying church, "meet and greets," dating sites, bars or hanging out in the produce isles at the super market.

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Brian pushed against the large revolving doors, his laptop case slung over one shoulder. Coming out the other side, he thought the building was even quieter and emptier than normal. The tiny shops on either side of the wide concourse were closed, as was always the case at seven thirty in the morning. Ahead, the escalator hummed as one unused step after other rose to the second floor.

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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.

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