Your erotic stories

It had been six months since I'd moved in next door to an amazing lady. She was in her early to mid sixties, had a vibrant warm personality, and immediately befriended me showing genuine concern after my divorce. Madeline and I became good friends. I very often stopped by after work to check on her, see how she was doing, and generally on the weekends, did a few odd jobs for her. Having Madeline as a friend, someone to talk to, made the days easier to deal with and not quite so lonely.

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It was finally summer. I just moved out of my parents' home and had found an apartment for myself and my best friend Harry, a ninety pound mutt that I had rescued from the local dog pound when I entered high school. He had been my constant and loyal companion for the past five years and there was no way that I was going to leave without him. We had gone everywhere and done everything together, and now that we were out on our own, I needed to find a place for Harry to do his thing, if you know what I mean.

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Her name is Kathleen, but her lover calls her Kitty. She is a woman, mature and experienced of life, with lines on her face left by trials over the years – marriage, children arriving, children leaving, and children coming back. And then divorce, loneliness, but a gradual return to strength. She is not one to give up. But some of those lines, in fact, are from laughter, plain and simple, and full of joy.

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It was the fall of 2001. Some of my girlfriends and I had decided to go to a local professional wrestling event. The main event that night was between somebody named Buff Bagwell and this massive guy named Onyx. If anyone reads this and remembers that card, you'll remember me. It was not this match that got to me. Actually it was a match much earlier in the show. It featured a guy named The Big Voodoo Daddy. He wrestled some guy, if memory serves me right, named "Loverboy" Dennis Condrey. Well, "Loverboy" was not anything like his nickname.

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Moving and having to transfer during your senior year of high school is quite difficult to do. I had to leave all of my friends behind and start in a new school which would be difficult for anyone but when you are pretty much just an average guy ( not an athlete or anything like that ) you pretty much just blend into the surroundings. I did have one advantage, I was a good student in a private school which made me an excellent public school student. I was getting straight A's without much effort but unfortunately in high school this makes you more popular with the teachers than with other students. Did I say unfortunately?

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After a long Saturday morning sleep in, I am awoken by the sounds of a lawn mower. I climb out of bed and go to the window to find Dad's gardener, Stan, mowing the lawn. So much for a quiet and peaceful weekend. It's Saturday morning, Mr Johnson is coming out to take me to dinner tonight. Hmmm, what should I wear? I move to my wardrobe and start flipping through some dresses. I pick out a floral dress which has a low V neckline, crosses over and simply ties at the back. Yes, I think I'll wear this one, it's a very sexy dress.

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Just coming out of the shower and looking into the door mirror, I grin a little bit thinking of an earlier conversation I had with my business partners. Half of the morning they were discussing shaving their junk to make them look bigger. I remember being a little annoyed, but then I shrugged it off thinking 'Whatever helps them sleep at night'. But it got me thinking, so I just tried it.

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He died last June in a car crash. My mother was at the wheel and it was because of her that they were both killed. Mom was a real bitch. You know the type, always right and always critical of other people and very demanding and vindictive. Dad always stood up for me and I idolized him. I was his favorite and I really hated the way mom treated him. About once every couple of weeks she would send us on useless errands, and those were the times she would let dad fuck her.

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What a difference two days can make. When I woke up the day before yesterday, I was lying in a hospital bed with more cables attached to me than a substation feeding New York City. At least that's the way it seemed. I really don't remember how I got there, but they tell me that I was rushed to the hospital after passing out at the mall.

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Kayla sat at the kitchen table fuming. She had intended to ask her husband about it last night, and then this morning, but she couldn't bring herself to go there. Part of it was that she was terrified of the answer. What would she do if her husband was fucking his secretary? She remembered her father telling her mother that he had fallen in love with his secretary, and she didn't want to be her mother. The words still pissed her off. She wasn't about to give her husband, Marty, the chance to tell her he had "fallen in love" with that cow of a secretary. He might be fucking her, but it wasn't love.

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