Your erotic stories

She came the same time every morning. She would enter the dark stable, her long skirt rustling as she walked. She never smiled and never said so much as a "good morning." She would ask for her horse and I would hold the reins as she mounted the chestnut stallion. She never needed help getting on the animal. She would throw one muscular leg over the saddle and pull herself into position. Taking the reins from me, she would thank me and then gallop off into the early morning.

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I have been thinking a lot recently about relationships and aging. Two obvious reasons come to my mind. My wife and I just got back from a reunion and I had to bump up the age in my Literotica profile. I'm not complaining. All things considered, my wife and I have had a pretty good life. Judging from the events of the last reunion, that's not about to change any time soon.

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It was a brisk Saturday afternoon in Newport, Rhode Island. The wind blew slightly as the strong sun beamed down on the many shoppers frequenting the stores in this quaint New England town. Being August, tourists were everywhere to be seen. While most were there just for the weekend, some had owned or rented summer homes. In a slightly more secluded area, away from much of the hustle and bustle of the streets, two women sat at a patio table outside a small Italian café.

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Sam White moved around the party, accepting congratulations, chatting about his future. It was mostly family here for his High School graduation party, since a lot of friends were having their own, and about the only person his age was his cousin, Becca, who would graduate herself next year. She was off chatting with her mother, Sam's Aunt Julie, and as he approached, he heard Becca say, "But, Mom, none of my friends like him! He's like such a dork!"

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Prelude: "I'll be back in about half an hour, Rod is here if you need anything." I knew Erin's comment was meant more for her husband. Rod had suffered a stroke two years previous, and although he could get around, I had come to learn in the several weeks I worked for them he managed little more than pressing the garage door opener so I could get at their gardening tools. This summer I decided I would do what I loved for a change. We needed extra cash to pull ourselves out of debt, and I had done the shit jobs already, including overnight paper deliveries and scrubbing toilets.

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I slammed the door behind me as I walked in the house, getting home from work. My boyfriend, Jason, had called me while I was driving to tell me that he wasn't coming over tonight. I was incredibly angry at him -- my parents hardly ever left me home alone, and I had been looking forward to having him over for most of the weekend. I had planned everything out, and had spent most of the day thinking about taking him into the hot tub, where we would fool around, ending the night with a long session of sex in my room.

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"Go piss off and walk your fucking dog!" My girlfriend shouted at me for coming home drunk late last night. My girlfriend and I share a flat. A new place we recently moved into and a new neighbourhood for us. And as you have gathered, we have, well it's my dog. I had slept most of the day and it was around six o'clock Friday evening. Yeah I know, lazy bastard. Well we both had a few days off work for the move. It was Friday, and we also had the weekend off. I was out with a few mates drinking, chatting, drinking, eyeing up girls, drinking... you know what young men get up to in their early twenties.

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My name is Matt and I am married to a wonderful woman named Linda. We have been married for about 5 years. Recently her parents were down for a visit and asked me if I could help them out. John asked if I could travel back with them to Ohio and help them for a week to set up their new business. My Father-In-Law is a very intelligent man but he doesn't know the first thing about computers so I agreed. My wife teaches middle school so she couldn't just take off so she stayed behind.

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"Ho ho ho" Arthur Wilson muttered in response to the "Merry Christmas" shouted out by Bud as the door closed behind him, the latest departing regular at Mickey's Tavern. This left Arthur as the last soldier still sitting at the bar. It was past six, and Arthur knew that Mickey was probably anxious to get home to his missus for Christmas Eve. While Arthur was certainly in no great rush to leave, there was no need for him to prolong Mickey's agony, so he signaled for one last one for the road.

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I was running late, over two hours late! I pulled open the door to the bar and stepped inside. The place was already busy with business people who were visiting the hotel for various conferences and meetings or for drinks after work. The band was on stage playing some classic rock music and there were people on the dance floor gyrating to the beat. The lights were dim and there was smoke in the air as I made my way toward the bar.

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