Your erotic stories

My sister Annette was gazing at me with a super serious expression. As a critical care nurse, she was concerned for the state of my well being. "You need a break from all this craziness, I'm worried about you," she said. "I'll be ok," My voice sounded unconvincing. "Can't you take any time off? Go away for a week or two and relax. Remember you've already had a heart attack and..." "Jesus sis that was twelve years ago and it was minor..."

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She's not "less than half your age," instead, she's "a bit younger," Dave thought to himself, sitting opposite this charming creature, attempting to iron out his conflict. When he first received the e-mail a few weeks ago he never expected to actually meet her – or that she'd be so attractive. The e-mail read: "My mother Susan told me so many nice things about you and I would appreciate it, if you have the time, to sit and talk to you about her.

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My name is Jack Maltan, I’m a private eye. Heh, sounds pretty good huh? Actually I am a private eye, but you wouldn’t know it to look at me. I was only 20 when I got into it. So it works out that my father, a career cop, gets the boot from the force for knockin’ around some kid that waved a gun at him and ran off. Funny thing, anyone else would have done the same, or worse. Anyway so my dad goes nuts, without the force he’s nothing he lasted a while, then he offed himself about two years ago.

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I was recently divorced and needing a change when I saw the ad online. "Live-in nanny needed A.S.A.P!" It read. Noticing that it was in the New Jersey area, I decided to check it out. I had been living in the Midwest, and I couldn't think of a bigger change. I hadn't had any formal nanny experience, but I loved kids and I had taken some childcare courses in college. Deciding to take a risk, I sent in my resume and continued on with my job search. Little did I know how much my life was about to change.

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The bench stood along the outside wall between Krogers and Starbucks. Al liked to sit there with a cup of coffee, people-watching, and daydreaming. Today he sipped his coffee, and wondered if the white-haired woman with the poodle would come by again. He'd seen her several times. About his age, slim, well dressed and classy, she'd been aloof and cool at first, but as time went on, she seemed warmer.

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What I'm about to relate happened last week. In a sense it was the result of a dare, sort of. Let me explain. I made a new friend recently who I'll call Jean. Jean and I hit it off right away; we are so much alike, it's scary. Although we differ somewhat in age -- I'm fifty-something, she's thirty-something -- it turns out we both share a wild and naughty aspect to our personalities ... and, we both love cock.

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Where do I begin? I'm not even sure why I'm doing this to be honest, so I guess the best thing to do would be to start with the facts. I'm a forty year-old married woman. I have one son who's eighteen and just recently started his freshman year at an out of state university. I've been married since I was twenty-one and I've never been with another man since. I live a quiet comfortable life. My husband is an executive at an oil company and as such is able to provide anything I need or want.

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Once there was a lonely lady. Very lonely. And for far too long a time. Her neighbors were all middle-aged like her. And all were married. But not her; she had no interest in marriage nor in her neighbors' tedious husbands. It was enough to work, to cook and clean for herself. And she could please herself whenever she wanted to, and she wanted to often. But still, now and again, she felt lonely, she felt the desire to have another with whom to share some pleasure.

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I left work and walked across the car park to the small massage therapist's room that was attached to the end of our building. After a stressful day at work, with customers and bosses yelling at me and demanding attention I felt drained, tired and tense. I popped my head around the door and saw Gail sitting at reception, a book of pencilled figures in her hands, glasses perched on her nose. She was in her early 40's, not unattractive for her age and slim, standing at about chin height. She had shoulder length blond her and a friendly and open face.

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I had seen him around the halls a few times, but he had only smiled weakly at me and glanced at the ground. For the longest time I didn't even know his name. I assumed he must be an adjunct professor at my prestigious graduate school; he dressed professional, and his silver hair was a clue to his age bracket. For the life of me, I do not understand why he was so intriguing. He stood about six feet tall, and his body-type was that of a wrestler or rugby player;

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