Your erotic stories

It was a cold, damp, gray Monday in the middle of November and Dan was doing what he usually does, driving from one city to the next in his Midwest sales territory. He had left his home in the Chicago suburbs that morning, made a stop in Rantoul, Illinois, and now was on the back roads traveling to Lafayette, Indiana. He liked traveling the back roads whenever he could, as he felt interstate driving was boring.

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Life in rural upstate New York, circa 1972. Justin Anderson was on the verge of cumming, and at that moment in time life could not be better for the teenager. He had just graduated from high school and was going off to college in a few weeks. His girlfriend, Becky Biondi, was on her knees in front of him, sucking away on his cock. They had planned on fucking, but Justin had accidentally torn the condom while putting it on - his last one - so Becky was taking care of him as best she could.

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Mark Walker was sitting at a table for four in what was rapidly becoming a crowded bar. The place had been almost empty when he came in thirty minutes before, but was quickly filling with an after work crowd. Normally, Mark would have been facing the room but he had some work documents he needed to read and didn't want to spend any more time in his hotel room than necessary, so he had ducked into the bar figuring he would have a Manhattan while he worked. Who says men can't multi-task?

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Donna, Amanda and I have been good friends since we were kids in grade school. We grew next door to each other, Donna on one side and Amanda on the other, and played together after school through our whole grade school years. I caught a lot of flak from some of my other friends, teasing that I was going to get girl cooties if I hung around them, but that didn't stop me. We had fun together and the difference in gender at that age really didn't bother me that much, both of them were pretty tomboyish and we had plenty of fun climbing trees and building snow forts and the like.

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When I was little I used to sit outside with my Grandmother on her wide front porch and we would dream about what we would do to the gardens one day. It was one of my favorite things to do with her when I was visiting. My parents died when I was in my early twenties and my Grandmother was all I had left. Eventually I moved to New York City and made my life there, becoming a very successful writer. I had more money than I knew what to do with and I would send her checks, telling her to make her special garden.

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Monday Harold stood at the door and looked around. On the flipchart at the front of the room someone had written 'Management Skills for the IT Environment,' so he was in the right place. There were probably twenty other people milling about the room or already seated at one of the tables, some were talking and others just staring into space. Everybody looked so young. Harold felt out of place. He took an empty seat at a table near the back and joined those staring into space.

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Sometimes you just have to hit bottom before you start to rise again, and apparently I'd hit bottom a while back. Through a sequence of stupid decisions and choices, some bad luck with the economy, some tragedy and heartbreak, I've found myself alone for the first time since going off to college. Was busted broke but found a new job that actually pays pretty well, actually got pretty healthy and more physically fit than since those college days, and had even managed to buy a tiny house.

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Grandpa thought he was in heaven! The 55 and older community was actually about 65 and older, and most of them were women, so when I visited him, he'd light up and was proud to show me off. He was still a spry 82, went out for a few beers every afternoon at the local bar, which was really a package store with a bar in the back room, complete with old time bar maids, songs from the Forties, and a million old war stories.

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He was the perfect gentleman. I'd been working at Junior's, an old fashioned ice cream parlor in the tourist trap part of town known as The Riverside for a couple of months. He came in at least once a week, had a single scoop of chocolate ice cream and always he made me laugh. His name was Craig. I'd guess his age at about 50. He looked his age, but in all the right ways. He had thick hair, black at one time but now going white.

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I've never been a big fan of horror movies. It's not that I scare easily, but they just don't do much for me. I will say, though, that the scariest movie I ever saw when I was a kid, was a film called "Poltergeist." It came out when I was about thirteen or fourteen, and it frightened the shit out of me when I first saw it. It's about a bunch of people living in a housing estate that's been built on an old cemetery, and in the big finale, there is this huge storm, and coffins start popping up out of the ground, and the lids flying open, with skeletons in ragged, rotting clothes start falling out, and it's a shocker!