Your erotic stories

He had just turned sixty when his wife passed away. Along with her passed the dreams of a retirement of travel with her as his constant companion. They had planned to travel the world together, but it was not to be. Now he moped about their home with no ambition or desire to do anything, including keep the house clean. He sometimes straightened a little, knowing how disappointed she would have been to see her home in such disorder. He couldn't bring himself to show much interest in anything, until finally, his children told him he had to clean up his act.

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I have never really adjusted to the intense thrill of rotating my practically naked hips in front of a woman staring avidly at my hard eight inch cock, damp in the piss hole by now, her eyes riveted on it as it swayed there, an inch or so from her lips. The heavy beat of Ravel made me surge slowly but lewdly, the moment capturing me as much as her, and I knew she would give me the grand finish to my act when her tongue flicked out toward it.

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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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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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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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