Your erotic stories

I couldn't help notice my neighbor when we were setting up our stalls. For one thing, hers was right next to mine. For another, her compact, curvy frame moved with efficient grace as she set her paintings out for display. The big thing, though, was her cropped hair - an elegant cap the color of burnished steel. That, plus a face full of laugh lines (and a few others) really set her apart from the generally younger crowd of artists setting up for the fair. Having someone my own age right there made me feel a bit less ancient.

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"Oh fuck, I'm late!" Speaking quickly into her cell phone, 41-year old Natalie Franklin grinds her white high heel harder down on the accelerator of the BMW. On the other end of the line, a very girlish laugh is heard. "What are you giggling at, Tracy?" "It's just funny," she vaguely announces in a very soft voice.

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The bookstore was crowded with last minute holiday shoppers. I stood in a long checkout line and finally worked my way up to the front and was able to pay for my items. I was purchasing a few last minute presents, as well as, a book for myself. The checkout girl scanned the bar code on my book, then looked up at me with a knowing smile after noting the title of the thick volume.

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A trip to the Dentist is not something that I look forward to, and my six monthly check up was no exception. I managed to get the final appointment of the day at a dental surgery I had not been to before. The Dentist was not available, but I was assured the senior Dental Nurse would be more than capable of conducting the check up and cleaning. I arrived at the surgery just before 5pm and was greeted by the senior Dental Nurse behind the receptionist's desk. She then led me through the waiting room and into the surgery.

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Chapter 1 I've lived in Columbus for eight years now, a vice president of a local bank, divorced now for five years, not dating much, just mostly 'batching' it these days. I've lived on Oriole Lane for the time I've been in Columbus, with the same neighbors on either side. On the East side are the Coleman's, Rod and Ellen, both well into their retirement, on the other side, a younger family, nearer my age, Hank and Sandra Morse.

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Saturday: I arrived at the address to collect the key for my holiday house in Spain. I knocked on the door and a young man answered. A very handsome young man! He was about twenty or twenty-one and had beautiful dark brown eyes, black hair and a deep suntan. "I'm Kay and I've come to collect the key for the holiday home I'm renting for the week." "Right," he said, looking me up and down, "I'll get my mother."

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I suppose it's a sign of the times, as well as a testimony to my advancing age, but as the divorced father of a 19 year old boy, I'm constantly amazed at the things these kids send each other through their e-mail. These guys tell girls to send pictures of themselves in various stages of undress, or even stark naked, and these girls actually do it!

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At 18 years old, I still had another few decades before I would even begin to figure out what life was all about. All I knew is that I was cursed by an insatiable sex drive that, because I was still a virgin, I had to take care of with my hands. And I took care of it a lot. At least two or three times a day I would have to whip out my cock and jerk off. I was also cursed (some might call it blessed) with an enormous cock. My cock was so big around that I couldn't close my fingers on it and I could two fist that mother with lots to spare.

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When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She's gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.

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It was Cathy, my girlfriend, who found me the flat. When my old landlord died, and his son served notice on the tenants, I needed somewhere cheap, and available quickly. Of course, the ideal thing would have been to move in with Cathy. But she shared her parents' old house in Bedford with her sister, and anyway, I'd tried commuting from there into London for a couple of weeks. The 'BedPan line' -- Bedford to St Pancras -- was legendary at the time as not so much a rail route, more a fiendish torture cunningly designed by the operator to drive unwary commuters insane.

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