Your erotic stories

I haven't always been like this. There was a time, as a younger woman, when I moved through the day without noticing everyone I encountered with the same eye for elements as I do now. Back then, a face was not a porthole to the inside world of men and women. The posture and carriage of a body did not reveal the food consumed, emotional baggage lugged, and the psycho/sexual energy of a personality. However, somewhere along the way, I developed these insights into people that left me feeling somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophet.

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It has been about a year since my husband, Art, passed away. Often, I think of his generous nature that brought much happiness in to my life and my friend Rose's life. Specifically, he encouraged us to share our lives with younger men. I dare say that few men are as magnanimous as Art. I'm Myrna, 53 years old, 5 ft 10 in, 130 lb, blue eyes, and brown hair; I was named after my granny's favorite actress, Myrna Loy. I am an elementary school teacher.

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Benny loved her. Always had, ever since he met her nearly a year ago. Sometimes he would lay awake in his bed, at home looking up at the ceiling where dappled shadows played during moonlit nights. He would slip out of his shorts and hold his cock in his hand, and conjure her up in his mind. Her dark hair would swirl about her face and her large green eyes would twinkle as her lusciously thick lips curved up in a joyous smile revealing her perfect white teeth. Sometimes his imagination would allow him a glimpse of creamy white breasts swelling from the top of her low cut blouse, and sometimes he could even make the blouse vanish.

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I got to my desk to find a bright orange donut and a small gourd on my desk. Next to it was a note. I opened it. "Halloween Masquerade Ball" and the date on the weekend. I pushed it aside. I hadn't had a date in months and wasn't planning on going alone. I'd stay home and on the real Halloween, hand out cavity causing candy to the urchins on the street. Later in the day Noah from accounting walked by my desk. Then he walked back the other direction.

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I first noticed her on a grey November's day at the supermarket. As she loaded shopping into her car a huge bag of green apples fell from one of the carriers, hit the ground, split and fruit rolled everywhere; she must have been very fond of apples. Much of it tumbled, erratically in my direction, I scurried about gathering up the tumbling orbs and restored them to their somewhat flustered owner. I would never have looked at her twice, she could have been my mum but then she smiled and her face lit-up, rolling back the years in a trice.

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Brad came to work for our company right out of college as a product specialist covering a three state area. He was tall and good looking, clean cut and hard working. He quickly made a positive impression on our customers, worked diligently and traveled extensively. His young wife Lori was a tall brunette with long legs, full natural breasts, a perfectly proportioned butt and a very pretty face.

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Saturday I peered into the rearview mirror and saw the familiar VW logo of Jenna's Jetta. Not that I was worried about her finding her way. We'd been driving this route to the beach for over 15 of her 20 years, so she certainly knew the route. It was pretty much a straight shot from Columbia to Charleston on I-26 and then a short jog over to Isle of Palms. Nothing to it.

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Robyn sat alone on the railing of the massive sun deck and heaved a sigh of general discontent. Attending the engagement party of a fellow college alum while accompanied by your own future mother-in-law was certainly not her idea of a hot summer Saturday at the Jersey shore. Robyn had never been one of those young women to revel in these 'girlie-girl' type celebrations, anyway, although Robyn herself wore a nearly two-carat diamond engagement ring on her own left hand.

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MaryAnn was completely engrossed in her notes from that morning's seminar. A glass of wine sat on the table, but that was mostly an excuse to occupy a table. Her reverie was broken by the waitress who sat another glass of Chablis in front of her and announced, "From the gentleman over there." "Damn it," she thought. "Why can't I sit here in peace? Just because I'm a woman all by myself in a hotel bar doesn't mean I'm a hooker or an out of town housewife on the prowl."

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Dave was spading the flowerbed along the fence but his attention was on his wife who was planting flowers in the bed around the fountain. At forty-five, Jane was still a very impressive woman, especial bent over on her knees with her ass up in the air. The old cut offs she wore showed more than a little of her ass cheeks and allowed the plump outer lips of her sex to peek at him. The tent in the front of his shorts was a jutting testimonial to her sexiness.

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