Your erotic stories

There were three generations of blondes occupying the table at the food court in the mall I had recently begun to manage. I had seen them before, perhaps each Saturday for about a month now. With each visit they captured more of my curiosity. It didn't hurt that they ranged, in order, from bubbly and precious, to perky and pretty, to downright seductively sexy. The youngest was no more than a few months old, I estimated, a jolly pink-faced infant being lovingly bounced on the knees of her mom.

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Ryan lay on his bed, one arm slung across his eyes, his other hand, slowly stroking the bulge that twitched through the cloth of his skimpy running shorts as he thought of her. She was his latest obsession, and she was also proving to be his greatest challenge. He sighed, frustrated, and slung his legs off the bed to sit on its edge, his chin cupped thoughtfully in his young hands as he watched the dust motes dancing in the sunlight that streamed in through the open window.

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It might have been the eleventeenth of Octembruary for old Jack. At 76 he sat in his living room looking out through the panoramic window for his carer, a younger woman of 32 who would soon be there to ensure that he was washed and properly dressed. What was it she had said, something about it being a special day today? He had no idea, one day being no different from the next or last. She had been coming to see to him for more than four years now and he always welcomed her.

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Guys are normally so predictable. Flirt with them, joke with them, be interested in "their" sport, and all of a sudden a girl can have them groveling at her feet. Give them a glimpse of leg and they will actually slobber. At least the majority of guys are that way. Occasionally there are the mutants. They are hooked to a specific girl and won't tell you the time of day. They might be totally devoted to work. They might like guys. Whatever.

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Have you ever met a 27 year old woman who was a virgin? More intriguingly, imagine that this 27 year old virgin was shapely, very pretty, college educated and sophisticated in a northeastern pseudo-intellectual, ultra-liberal, politically correct kind of way. If that wasn't enough, she was also a vegetarian, of the most extreme variety. Imagine then that this 27 year old virgin was also quite aware of her sexuality and very eager to lose her virginity, but she could not quite rid herself of some impossibly high standards that the man who would take her virginity had to meet.

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Cassie Stevens was a stunning woman. She kept herself in amazing shape, particularly for a mother of two, and for someone her age. At over 40 years old, she was still able to turn heads, and she knew it. Her body was a testament to the many hours she put in at the gym and in her yoga classes. She was slim and toned, with an ass women half her age would kill for. Her breasts were not exactly enormous, but were a decent size, and lacked the sag many of her friends experienced, again thanks to her commitment to physical fitness.

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I guess you could say, I have had my moments, I was a widow some seven years, Stan had left a reasonable pension and the house paid for on his passing. Most of the time I was married I was faithful, as I said, most of the time. I had taken the odd opportunity when it had presented itself. Few times I had saved the insurance money, the milk man, things like that, and got my itch scratched. Or was it my snatch pitched!

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Gina Slater knew she was in some bother the moment he walked into her kitchen through her back door. It was Tuesday morning and she had just got over the weekend, she had held a party for her husband's 45th birthday on Saturday night, and it had been a hoot, a riot, a terrific success, one she barely hoped for. All their friends, a lot of his colleagues had come, everyone had a great time, and the party had gone on and on.

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I pulled the Kenworth into the driveway, drove it into its spot next to the house, and shut down the big Cat diesel. After checking everything out inside the cab, I grabbed my bag from the sleeper, opened the door, and stepped out into the chill Alaskan evening. I had just completed a three-day run to Kenai and back; I was tired and smelled of diesel, cigars, and stale coffee.

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CHAPTER 1 Twice divorced with continuing strong interest in working and male company, Lillian Smith, who'd once again reverted to her maiden name, made her seventh application for a new job and secured a position as personal assistant to the female operations manager of a courier company. The two women settled in together fine, both being the same age of fifty-two, and with similar interests except manager Marion had been married to the same man for twenty-seven years and had warned her new recruit she didn't talk about her husband or home life.

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