Your erotic stories

“Gee Mrs. Watson your beautiful.” Gloria Watson swung around to find young Tommy Jackson smiling at her. “Why thank you Tommy, what brought that on.” Tommy grinned, “I’ve been walking behind you here in the supermarket for the last five minutes. I couldn`t help saying what I was thinking. You have a beautiful body. Your legs are long and curvy. I like the way your bottom jiggles when you walk.”

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Z's Walks a Truck Stop Z came to visit me. I live in a much smaller town than Z. We don't have the theaters like she does but she brought her sexy outfit anyway. Had a fun warm up at my house. We haven't seen each other, since the last Theater visit, which had been a few weeks ago. I treated her to a great elegant dinner with wine.

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It had become the highlight of my day, sitting out on the bench in front of the apartment complex I called home, waiting for the school bus to drop the students off. This gives you an idea of how exciting retirement was for me, but at 65 you take your thrills anyway you can. Each day at 3:35 or so, the Catholic school girls go by, dressed in identical outfits that were as stereotypical as they come.

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It was one of those gorgeous summer nights that you dream about all winter long, nary a cloud in the sky, warm and dry. The sun hadn't set until after 10 o'clock and a twinkling array of stars was blanketing the sky. It was still early enough in the year so that the mosquitoes aren't out. As I reclined in the Jacuzzi, I took a sip of my Ol' Grandad on the rocks. The strong amber liquid burned straight down to my pleasure zone, spreading a warmth from within as the hot bubbling water spread its warmth from without.

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Moira was having a hell of a hard time trying to fight her way out of the trouble she was in. She had more or less brought in on herself by her own actions. She had seen the look in his eyes about a year ago, right around the time of his eighteenth birthday. She had actually looked twice to make sure she hadn't misunderstood that gleam.

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"Your Mom's pretty hot," I whispered with a smile, nudging my girlfriend with my shoulder. I didn't see her roll her eyes, but I could just feel that look burrowing into my back, aimed right at my heart. My eyes were busy drinking in the aging vixen before me: 45 year old Deb Mason, 5'4", short gray hair, nice tight little farm-wife body. I could only hope that Meg would stay that good looking for the next 25 years, and my twitching cock was not in disagreement.

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Walk on the Beach, to Dance in the SKY The brown grass brushed the side of my calf with a feathery touch as I walked past it. I felt shivers, and then goosebumps ran up my skin. With my sandals starting to slip in the sand, I walked past the half-faded warning sign.

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She sat there reading on her computer and surfing like usual. Her thoughts began to wander and a slow smile crept over her lips. She opened up a chat program to see if he was online and beamed when she saw his sn there. He was often busy and she hated to interrupt but she remembered him telling her not to feel that way so she just jumped in and said hello.

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After a fairly brief fight with cancer, although it seemed long as she experienced it, my wife died. We were both retired, our children have children of their own and live a few hundred miles away. So, after the funeral and everyone returning to their own lives, I was on my own. It's difficult adjusting to that. I mean, after a long marriage where you become sort of two halves of one organism, to all of a sudden be alone.

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I'd seen Deborah all over town from time to time, and knew her casually. She is in her early to mid thirties, a tall woman, married and the mother of three. She's always been the picture of motherhood, doing all sorts of things to support and raise her children and doing them virtually as a single mom. Oh, she's married but her husband is more married to his work and his cronies than to her and his children.

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