Your erotic stories

I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.

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I had always wondered what it would be like to make love to an older, more experienced man for as long as I could remember. Well, one wild spring night, my fantasy came to life, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.... I am an English teacher in a middle school, and I pretty much love every aspect of my job. Writing and literature have been my passions for as long as I can remember. I began my teaching career as a substitute and gradually made my way to having my own classroom just three years ago, but it seems like I've been doing this forever.

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I thought at the time I had the worst luck in the world. There I was, standing on the shoulder of an interstate somewhere in Western Pennsylvania, eighteen wheelers rumbling by as I stared at my 1982 Toyota Celica. I'd opened the hood to see if I could figure out what was wrong, but had no clue. A few minutes earlier it started making a worrisome thumping sound and then stalled out. I was barely able to maneuver my way onto the shoulder safely.

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My name is Mark and I have a confession. I'm an attractive 35 year old man with a pretty wife and two great little kids. I have a good job, a nice house and what appears from the outside to be a perfectly normal life. But I have a secret...a hot, sexy, naughty, filthy little secret named Lizzy. Lizzy was 19 when this all started (actually she had just turned 20, but that didn't make me feel any better). She was the daughter of Tom, one of my two bosses and a guy that could ruin my life if he ever suspected that I had done anything with his gorgeous daughter.

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I stepped away from the painting and arched my back to relieve the ache. The large canvas required me to stand, but the years and a legacy of arthritis from my father made it difficult. I always managed to become swept up in the brush strokes and the blending of subtle hues, and it wasn’t until I stopped that I knew I‘d been on my feet too long. The coffee was cold, and I poured it back into the pot to re-heat.

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The mid-term grades had just been posted and most of the class crowded around the board trying to see. I was near the back of the crowd and just waited. "Wow Bob, an 'A'! You must be a genius." I looked behind me to see Jean, one of the nicer looking women in the class. "What did you get?"

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Fred couldn't remember how he got into the city the next morning. In fact when he realised he was in the city he couldn't remember waking up, getting dressed, having breakfast and getting into the car. He even glanced down guiltily to make sure he was dressed. He had gone to the city, he decided, because it was about the time he usually went there. He tried to remember what he usually bought in the hypermarket and in this way he slowly managed to work his way around to the checkout.

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“You know what we need?” Cynthia said slurring her speech slightly. “What’s that?” Sally said looking to her best friend. Cynthia leaned into her friend and lowered her voice, “Some young stud with a fat cock that can go all night on the two of us.” She said grinning. “Yeah, right.” Sally said looking away and dismissing her friend. “I’m serious,” Cynthia said louder leaning back away from Sally, “look at us we’re still hot we could still get some young, hung boy to go for us.”

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Alan's mother, Nora, had retired to a gated community to golf away her twilight years. Her comfortable home was across the street from Jim and Sally. They had been so nice to Nora when she moved in, shortly after the death of her husband, Alan's dad. Jim was a retired banker who married late in life. He was in his late 70's now, while Sally was in her early 50's. He was a tall slim southern gentleman. She was a short bubbly blonde who was aging gracefully. She stayed active enough to look a few years younger than she was. She was devoted to Jim.

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The conversation with his physician was just the kick in the butt that he needed. Brian James was 59 years old, recently widowed and lost. His marriage of 33 years was a good one. He and Laura enjoyed a loving relationship and a healthy sex life. At times they were adventurous, but never what one would call "kinky". They enjoyed "Viagra-free" sex until two years ago when Laura was diagnosed with uterine cancer.

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