Your erotic stories

I prefer older women. Or to be politically correct, "mature" women. I'll take a "mature" woman in her 40s or 50s any day over someone who is younger. Why? My experience has been that mature women are more comfortable with their bodies. They are more open to receiving and giving sexual pleasure and are more open to sexually adventuresome activities like lots of oral, role playing, anal, and if you are lucky, you can find a mature women that is open to threesomes and more, if you know what I mean.

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It's a beautiful hot summer day and I'm in the front garden admiring my hard work. Weed free beds, blooming flowers soaking up the water I have given them, bees and butterflies dancing to natures tune. "Hey Mrs B, how are ya?" I'm startled, shaken from my reverie. I see Robbie's friend Dean on the pavement, looking young and fresh in shorts, jogging on the spot. I smile my automatic welcoming 'Mummy' smile.

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Elizabeth sighed. People had told her the first year after the divorce would be difficult, especially the holidays. But she hadn't thought to include Valentine's Day. It wasn't as if Geoff had actually sent her anything the last 3 years of their 6-year marriage…not even a card. Come to think of it, they hadn't really celebrated Valentine's Day at all…no dinner, no 'hey, it's a holiday' sex. Now she was faced with spending the evening with quilting bee or going to a restaurant in Chicago's Loop with the 'Newly Single' group her sisters' had signed her up for.

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There are many moments in life that one can see as stunning; I am witnessing such a moment. My home is in the mountains of Pennsylvania, when the snow falls across the landscape, especially around the holidays it reminds me that God,in his infinite wisdom, allows us the time to reflect and remember the beauty in our lives. It has been some time since I've written of my deliciously decadent liaisons. As you know, I am a lover of older men.

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Crash! The window shattered into a thousand pieces as shards of glass flew everywhere. I couldn't believe how hard I had struck the baseball with my bat. It seemed to fly in slow motion toward her window. As soon as the window shattered the other guys ran off like scared rabbits. Frozen in place, I just stood there. We had been playing baseball in the vacant lot since I was eight years old.

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She blew her hair from her face and looked at the flat tire, she then looked down at the white dress she was wearing. She then started to cry and that was how he found her. "Miss?" Kimberly turned around and wiped a tear from her cheek, before looking up at the man in front of her. "Yes?" she asked, though she knew what he was going to ask her.

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Although I am only a high school graduate and almost all schools require a college degree, I consider myself to be as much a teacher as those in regular school classrooms. I also enjoy my teaching much more than most of the school teachers I have known. My husband approves of my teaching, I have been doing it for the past ten years, and helps select my students. I have had a total of thirty four of them, most for periods lasting from one to three months. I started when I was thirty seven and I plan to continue as long as I am able to find students.

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Damn, Linda muttered to herself as she glanced at her watch. If I don't get this to my boss by tomorrow morning, there will be hell to pay when I get back. First, I get sent to this teacher's conference, and then he wants a copy of the participant materials overnighted to him. The bastard! "Yes ma'am, there is a UPS store nearby." Linda thanked the concierge at the Marriott Hotel and hurried out the front door.

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Chapter One David Parker moved in next door a little over a year ago and quickly became friends with my parents. David is forty-two-years old, making him three years their junior, and the three of them spend a few nights each week playing cards or sitting on the patio talking and watching the sun go down. Since he 's been divorced for ten years mom is always trying to set him up with one of her friends, but it never works out.

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'Knock...knock...knock'. Melanie put her book down and answered the front door. "Hi...Mrs. Barton," the good looking teenager asked, "Is Warren in?" "Ehm no," she smiled when she recognised her son's best-friend Lee Clark or Clarkie as he was known to his friends, "he's at work but shouldn't be long; do you want to come in and wait?" "Yeh thanks." He mumbled and wiped his trainers on the door mat as he followed the slim woman into the living room.

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