Your erotic stories

Let me stress first that I do not recommend the method my wife and I used to patch up our marriage. But I do have to say it worked for us. If my wife's friend Elaine hadn't used her bottomless well of sexuality - not to mention her tight, horny little body - to bring us back together, Debra and I would have more than likely gone through with a divorce neither one of us really wanted.

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Spots of dappled sunlight streamed through the trees and danced and twirled on the pavement as I waited for her outside the building. She was always late, frantically trying to keep up with her life. Not that I would ever want her life, I snorted to myself. Immediately regretting the thought, I focussed on the distant rush of traffic echoing softly through what had to be the last quiet street in Brisbane's central business district.

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Part 1 Something that never left Rita was her milk. It was because she loved to have her tits sucked so much. Rita has very long nipples about an inch long when she’s aroused. Rita very seldom where a bra because she liked the way the material makes her nipples hard and stick out. Rita’s tits were the size of a large grapefruit or a melon. Perky, one fellow called them. Rita, now 46, was a big girl, a size 18,but she always turned the heads of many men.

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When the weather was warm, it was Martha's custom to lay naked in her back garden. She stretched out luxuriously on the large sun lounger, reading, dozing or just contemplating the world for an hour or two each fine afternoon. A high brush fence surrounded the garden, screening it off from the houses either side. Thus, she could lay nude and unobserved, or at least, almost unobserved.

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Marie was a mature woman with short, well layered blue silver hair and a slightly plump, but still desirable body that was generally covered by proper attire, consisting of sensible tops and knee length skirts. She was a junior high school librarian, a widow who had been married to her college sweetheart for twenty some years until he had perished in a vehicular accident.

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I'm 44 now and the following scenario has been going on for the best part of a year. I have a lover, who at 24 is not only much younger but the best thing I have ever ended up in bed with. Every weekend and the odd week night is spent in the kind of sexual bliss a woman only dreams about. My name is Pat; I have dark hair hanging in ringlets past my neck and a good body for my age, a legacy of having a super pair of cycling legs. I used to work with him and on the Xmas night out he drunkenly offered to go down on me. I was surprised and flattered.

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I hate it when they keep moving stuff around. When it comes to things like fish or produce, I find better quality at the local health food chain store. But the produce department here seems to like to move things around from week to week, I guess to create a more seasonally appropriate display. But I'm a pragmatic man, and I like to find things in the same place.

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My business partner Les and I have been mates since we were 13-year olds at school together. We lived a few doors from each other, we went on booze 'n' birds holidays to Spain together, we were best man at each other's weddings, and my wife and I are godparents to his daughter Becky. Stella and I weren't lucky enough to have kids of our own, but we only live a short distance from Les and his wife Irene, and Becky has almost been like our own daughter.

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"My mom's convinced I won't graduate without getting pregnant," Kaylea told me, tucking in her shirt before tying her apron around her waist. "There are ways to make sure that doesn't happen," I joked. She rolled her eyes at me. "I'm serious, Kaylea." "I know," she said. "I'm careful. I won't get pregnant, Tim, I promise." As her boss instead of a teacher or parent, I knew I could say things to her other adults couldn't. "Famous last words of eighteen year olds everywhere," I teased right before adding the words I never should have said.

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This was my time, I decided. I always had to look good for him, so I stayed in shape. At 59, I regularly heard that I looked much younger, and that was always a welcome compliment. I mean, I feel younger than 59. I think of my mom at 59 and she was in housecoats, or frumpy bland clothes. I preferred vibrant colors, current trends.

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