Your erotic stories

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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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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My name is Tom Green. I'm 49 years old, an even six feet tall, weigh just over 14 stones (or about 200 pounds) which is mostly still muscle I'm pleased to say! I also have greying dark hair and dark brown, almost black eyes which, I've been told, twinkle quite nicely when I'm in a good mood -- which is most of the time these days.

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Alice couldn't believe her luck. She had anticipated circling around the mall for a while, in search of a parking space, but one had opened up right in front of her. It was right near the entrance to the department store she had planned on visiting. Better still, it was the first non-handicapped space from the door. Before anyone else could steal it, Alice pulled her car into the spot. The day was going better than she had expected, and Alice hoisted her pocketbook over her shoulder and headed inside.

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CHAPTER 1 Marie smiled. Today was the first day warm enough to go swimming h in her new swimming pool and she was trying on her old bathing suit, She hadn't had time yet to go look for anew one. She was smiling because her diet had worked-- the bathing suit which and once fitted her tightly was now loose all over. The black one-piece was definitely destined for the trash. Maybe she'd even get a two-piece now.

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My dear sisters: I have been asked to give a history of my experience with Priapus, and my part in the revival of his ceremony. I trust that this account will not leave the walls of this sorority house. Here, as best I can recall and recount it, is the story. When I was in college in the early seventies, it was a very different environment than it is today. We were all so much more innocent than girls are now.

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Waldo was the only child of Edna and Henry. After her husband died from working too hard, Waldo and Edna were alone. Doting mother and loving son, all they had were one another. Reminiscent of the movie Harold and Maude, if Harold was older by forty years, their story, but for the sex at the end between Harold and Maude, would matched Harold and Maude's story.

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Single again and with more time on my hands than commitments, I had decided to hit the open road for a while. I didn't pack an itinerary and only packed the clothes I thought I couldn't do without. After all, this trip would be atop my old Harley and there wasn't but so much room for stuff. In the past few years I'd come to live doing the things I want to do and like doing, which meant odd jobs, some consulting now and then, and lots more time to shoot outdoor images, something I'd not done in earnest since the film days of the 80's.

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Her passing had been very sudden. We had been sat together watching nothing in particular on the TV and she had slipped into a sleep that I realised, eventually, was death. The family had been caring, the funeral sensitive and then followed the lowliness -- that awful sense that something was missing in my life. Our children had all left home, but living close, they had kept in touch, not oppressively, but supportively.

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