Your erotic stories

Serena McGuire hated boats; that was all there was to it. The rolling beneath her feet, the closed confinement. Even the sea air bothered her, although it never had before. Of course, she had been on a beach then. But the combination now had her stomach rolling along with the waves of the ocean. Her best friend, Isabel Trecher, instructed her that if she would actually spend some time on the deck, instead of in their cabin (which happened to be on the lowest deck, complete with two beds, one dresser, and no window), she would feel much better. Probably, Serena mused, because she would be as liquored up as Isabel is.

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I'm scared, I've been scared in the past so I know scared. Forty something years ago I was a part-time rally driver, back before World Rally Championships in pocket rockets with their roll cages and radio contact to their teams and the myriad safety features designed to protect the drivers, I drove what was little more than a standard road car with knobbly tyres at high speeds through twisty fire trails that wound their way through dense bushland with an equally scared navigator yelling the course notes to me. Believe me that was scary.

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I have always been attracted to older men. It was clear to me that they enjoyed watching me and I suspected they often dreamed about what it would be like to play with me. I'm not talking about board games or cards I mean really playing with me. I was a very well endowed girl. Knowing that men, especially older man, liked to look at my breasts was very exciting. It was easy for me to accidently brush up against them and sense them quiver with excitement when they felt my nipples, hard and stiff resting within inches of their hands.

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The day that I went to the local food store, my intentions were to pick up a few items that are essential for the survival of a single guy living alone, nothing more. I hate grocery shopping. I'm twenty-three and my latest girl friend had moved out about three months ago, so there were no home cooked meals waiting for me when I got home from work.

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This is a true story. All of the events are written down here to the best of my knowledge and recollection. My name is Will and I work on the Butcher's counter at Sainsbury's. I'm about 5'11, have got a brown crew cut and green eyes. My build was more skinny than athletic, but I'd still call myself athletic, you know how it is. These events took place in the summer of 2002. I was 19 years old.

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What I'm about to relate happened last week. In a sense it was the result of a dare, sort of. Let me explain. I made a new friend recently who I'll call Jean. Jean and I hit it off right away; we are so much alike, it's scary. Although we differ somewhat in age -- I'm fifty-something, she's thirty-something -- it turns out we both share a wild and naughty aspect to our personalities ... and, we both love cock.

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It was a Sole-Proprietorship business but a girl was added after two years to answer telephones, act as receptionist and file papers. She was only five feet tall, married twelve years and built like a brick shithouse. Maybe her figure is what caused me to hire her although in total honesty it had never crossed my mind except as an afterthought. She'd been available the hours I needed her and had some experience.

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Arnold Rasmussin, 42 year old, married white male, was very angry. Very angry. He was the senior accountant for United Foundations, Inc. and he had been passed over again when it came to the assignment of interns to members of the accounting staff. Arnold did not do anything about this. He didn't five years ago when the internship program was begun and he did not each year interns had been assigned since then.

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Joe was thirty-eight and lonely. He was tall, average looking and successful. His problem was judgment. He had given up looking for someone to share with, someone to love and be loved by. How he wanted that. Yet, every relationship he ever had ended when his chosen woman cheated on him. That confused him because he was an attentive lover, a good provider, even-tempered and respectful. Wasn't that what the women wanted?

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It was Sunday, a full day off from work. That meant I had the whole day to devote to my other job, the one I should have concentrated on years ago. I planned to do some serious work on my thesis. On the wrong side of my thirty-fifth birthday, I, Joseph Middleton, was a college boy. I was an average student in high school. My grades weren't good enough to get into a decent college, which didn't matter to me at the time. I just didn't care about much except hanging out with my friends and trying to get laid.

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