Your erotic stories

Have you ever sat down and thought about a moment in time? Something or some time, which has stayed in your memory forever. I'm not talking about a wedding or a death in the family. Those are things we all remember. I talking about something insignificant to most everyone else but it meant something to you. I was at a funeral recently of a brother-in-law. After the service as we entered the restaurant, one of my sisters, I have three, said that two women wanted to say hi to me.

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Will sat silently in his plush recreation room, waiting for his wife to return from the Country Club Halloween Party. His mind was still reeling from the fact that he and Jessie had actually gone through with their plan, at least as much of the plan as he had been involved in. The remainder would have been up to her and how daring she would be. His hard cock wavering between his legs was the telltale sign of how eager Will was for her to get home and tell him how the evening had played out.

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Most of my stories seem to be about love, romance, and hot sex. I guess that's because, there's just not much call for stories about hate, violence, and loathing. You'd think, I would get bored with it all after a while, but the fertile soil of my dirty old mans brain, keeps coming up with new ideas. Here's the latest one, let's see where it goes.

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"Whoa, Whoa, who's the new kid?" Betty said turning to the three other ladies seated at the picnic table. "Billy, he's here to fix whatever goes wrong in this place," said Wendy looking up from her sandwich. The four ladies ate lunch every day at the picnic table outside the daycare where they all worked. They were all great friends and enjoyed their daily girl-talk even through there wasn't a one of them under the age of forty.

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At 28 years old I hadn't been with a man for three years. The first two years after my husband died, I couldn't bare the thought of another man touching me. I felt like it was cheating. Jake wasn't supposed to die in that car accident. He was supposed to grow old and gray with me. Jake was gone and I knew I had to move on, but acknowledging this didn't make things any easier. Still, at twenty-eight I wasn't willing to spend the rest of my life alone.

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I had been employed at my new company for just about nine months. Twenty-two, having just gotten out of college, and not finding a job in my field of study, computer software design, I was very glad to be working anywhere. It's a pretty big operation, three large buildings covering twenty acres of property. Manufacturing, that's where I work, R&D, and executive offices are all located here. It employs a huge number of people, and obviously, there is no way to know everyone who might be a co-worker. Therefore, the company holds a large, dinner-dance, once a year for its employees.

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"Well, I have like 45 minutes to kill," sang the high-pitched, sweet teen voice of my daughter's curvy Latina friend Marisa, "would you like a sloppy blowjob?" My ears weren't expecting that question, and I swear I must have blushed. Perverted middle-aged fathers don't get that question often, or at least, this one doesn't. Or hasn't before at least. Maybe she saw me staring at her ample boobs in her tight babydoll, or she detected my eyes on her stellar round butt in that thin little skirt a few minutes earlier.

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I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.

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I had always wondered what it would be like to make love to an older, more experienced man for as long as I could remember. Well, one wild spring night, my fantasy came to life, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.... I am an English teacher in a middle school, and I pretty much love every aspect of my job. Writing and literature have been my passions for as long as I can remember. I began my teaching career as a substitute and gradually made my way to having my own classroom just three years ago, but it seems like I've been doing this forever.

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I thought at the time I had the worst luck in the world. There I was, standing on the shoulder of an interstate somewhere in Western Pennsylvania, eighteen wheelers rumbling by as I stared at my 1982 Toyota Celica. I'd opened the hood to see if I could figure out what was wrong, but had no clue. A few minutes earlier it started making a worrisome thumping sound and then stalled out. I was barely able to maneuver my way onto the shoulder safely.

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