Your erotic stories

That day started like any other first day of preschool for Julie. She greeted the returning children as well as the newcomers. Parents milled around the room to see what new things Julie had set up for the children to do. As she was speaking to one concerned parent, she noticed a tall man standing in the doorway, with a large Stetson in his hand. Wrapped around his leg, was a small girl in a pretty green dress and saddle shoes. She seemed to be terrified at what she was seeing.

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If you asked our friends and neighbors, "Hey, what kind of couple are Ingrid and Ben?", I'm sure they'd all say, "Oh, they're very nice, very quiet." Just another dull suburbanite couple, laid-back and conservative. Appearances, as they say, can be deceiving. Maybe my friends would mention the fact that I'm a very attractive woman, the archetypical Scandinavian beauty, with pale, ice-blonde hair, china blue eyes, and flawless alabaster skin.

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For three years since my wife died, I've tried to put a new life together in the more modern day-to-day world around me. My grown kids come to me for money and hint that they want their inheritance early. The women that I pick to date are either pushy or nuts. I don't understand what our leaders are doing to our economy and I am starting to drink and eat too much - time for me to regroup, decide to live alone and work. I'm good at work. I write for a successful living, can build houses and I am a good gardener.

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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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Now, right from the start, let’s get the details over and done with. My name is Jan, well, Janet actually, but let’s stick with Jan as everybody else does. I’m fifty-two at the time of writing, but was fifty when the events I shall relate took place. I am five feet six inches tall. Buxom, in fact very buxom, but its all firm. Nothing flops about, including my bosom – 40 C if you want to know, but then, I don’t often wear a bra because I like to show off my nipples.

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A pretty young woman is jilted by her intended lover and ends up drunk and in the arms of a man old enough to be her father. A long sensuous and erotic story that teases and unfolds sexily. It was 2am she was more drunk than she had been since she was a teenager and the friendly goodnight kiss had escalated to a long passionate embrace. Rachel wondered how her evening had brought her here. She had planned to have sex tonight, but not with this man and certainly not here in the car outside her apartment.

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When Jack and Lisa, friends from my college days, asked me to be the photographer for their wedding I was more than happy to oblige. I had been doing wedding photography on the side for about five years and was getting more and more comfortable with my results. Little did I know that this assignment would be quite different from all the rest.

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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Vanessa McCall threw her purse on the couch and then checked her self on the mirror. She smiled looking at her pristine face and glanced approvingly at her voluptuous, firm breasts, which despite having an 18-year-old step-son, were delightfully full and firm. Vanessa knew that she was still a very attractive woman and she took pleasure in the flattering glances and stares of men even as young as her own son. After having admired her body for a couple of minutes Vanessa made her way to her bedroom.

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I've always felt attracted to younger men. Some time ago, there was family living next to me in our small neighborhood. This was several years after my husband had died. I'd finally begun to feel somewhat whole again and yet the loneliness was getting me down. I had sexual cravings I hadn't felt in a long time and thought I'd go crazy if they weren't satisfied by someone, and soon.

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