Your erotic stories

I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away.

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Gloria was glad she finally convinced her husband, Gary, to visit their old friends, the Porters in Orlando. Oh, Gary could be an old curmudgeon, sure enough. Everyone knew that. But even he admitted it would be nice to see the Porters again and Gloria was looking forward to seeing the Potters' daughter and son-in-law at the same time. They lived in a nice old home (or so she heard) right on the beach and they would be hosting Gary and Gloria during their stay in Orlando.

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"What the hell was that," Jake Armstrong said to himself, as he walked passed the closed office door on his way to the copy machine room. The long corridor was empty, as most of the staff was out to lunch, and Jake wondered who could possibly be using the vacant office at this hour. Well whoever it was, they sure as hell were making quite a racket in there. Jake put his ear to the door, listened for a few moments, and then slowly turned the handle and pushed into the supposedly empty office.

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The white cotton fabric of her panties made a scratching sound as it rubbed hard against her pubic hair. Wet heat was penetrating the only barrier to the pussy I had dreamed about since I was sixteen. The situation had deemed it necessary for hard, rough kissing. Our tongues were battling, roughing the other up, our mouths had become instruments for something other than verbal communication; instead it was a primal and taboo language we were speaking.

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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.

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My name is Tanya, and I'm a chat room addict. It all started last year when I went on Facebook to reconnect with friends from all stages of my life. It was so much fun to find people and update each other on what had been happening in our lives. And that's when I started to chat. Chat really opened up the world for me. Faster and easier than a phone call. You could even chat while on the computer doing work or other stuff. Chat with friends all over the country and see their pictures. So I really got into it big time.

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I always enjoyed my time at church as a young man, not for all the Stuff I was attempted to be taught, but for the girls. Who ever said Good girls don't, did not go to the church I went too. I got more girls there than I ever did all during High School. Every Wednesday evening I would take a girl or two home after stopping for a malt or sex, whichever we felt like at the time.

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Let me tell you about my infatuation with my paper carrier. Before you start to think of me as some sort of pervert (which I may very well be) my carrier is not a young girl or boy. She is a very attractive woman in her early 40’s. I’ve known her for a number of years, even before she delivered the paper. Janet is very friendly and will always stop and talk for a minute on her route. A couple of times I asked her in and she would sit and visit. Every time she would come in however, my dick would get hard as a rock and I would look like a klutz trying to hide it.

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I couldn't keep my eyes off of the elegant older woman sitting in the top row of the bleachers at the matinee of the ritzy horse fair. I also couldn't help but notice that she was making a less than subtle production out of lowering her designer sunglasses and looking me up and down, smiling in a cat-that-wants-to-swallow-the-canary way. Younger women, or at least women who were my age, didn't begin to know how to smile like that.

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My name is Will, everyone calls me Weezer, a nickname my Grandpa gave me when I was six years old and stuck with me. I'm 24, I don't have the body of a body builder nor am I hung like a horse in fact, I'm on the thin side. 6'2" at 185 pounds, a hard wind could blow me over, and I would say I am average in the lower region. But I do have a very nice looking girlfriend, and she has a beautiful mother. Not the ones you always hear about, the ones that look like they could be sisters, but, both are extremely good looking.

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