Your erotic stories

I'm bored, sitting on the couch, playing with my hair, wishing you'd come home from work already. Looking at the clock and knowing it will be hours, I pick up a book and begin to read it. Even though my eyes are looking at the words, my mind is in other places. I think about you and how much you turn me on. I think about how we love to role-play "daddy" and "baby," being that you are older and more experienced than I am. I start to fantasize about greeting you when you come home from work with a nice long kiss and imagine all the dirty, exciting things we might do tonight.

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This story takes place in the summer of my 19th year. I had returned to my hometown after an accident which had left me hospitalized for two months. Upon returning I needed to determine a direction for my life. I had enlisted in the army and was awaiting my active duty date in late 1969 when the accident happened. The damage to my body was sufficient to cancel my enlistment and give me a get home free pass from Uncle Sam’s party in Viet Nam. While many of my friends had suffered as a result of that war, I was not sorry that I did not have to go.

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Eddie spent most of the rest of that day reliving the most amazing experience of his life. He had cum before but never like THAT. In his wildest imagination he would not have thought his sexy next door neighbor, Cecilia, would have even offered to suck his young cock let alone swallow his cum right at her kitchen table. Eddie loved his mom but at this moment he was hoping her trip would take several extra days. Cecilia had promised to show him all sorts of new things. He could hardly wait until dinner was ready.

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I'm older than most of you reading these stories, but likely just as horny as any of you. I'm 61 years old and still have a fire in the furnace. There's not much snow on the dome, and I've got more hair then most all my friends. I work out regularly and manage to keep a fairly good physique, and can still do a day's work in the fields or woods. And I'm lonely.

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Michael Powell was exhausted now. He lay very still, taking small, shallow, quick breaths. On his lumpy single bed, staring at the cracked, white ceiling of his room, Michael recounted the events of earlier that night, in his own private mind movie. He took one deeper breath, closed his eyes and smiled. He opened them again and reached over to pick up the toilet roll from the floor at the side of his bed.

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I am a product of thinking patterns and values that were probably always wrong and early training to cherish women. Love and respect was without question the basis of male and female relationships. Until just a year ago, I struggled to find dates my own age or denied my age in an attempt to attract healthier, younger, more active females. Stupidly, I competed with the young broad shouldered, narrow waisted, handsome, deep voiced twenty and thirty year olds. If that is what the women wanted, I could not compete.

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Our family spent two weeks every summer at a seaside holiday camp. We had been going there for years and knew most of the families who also took their holiday over that same two week slot. There were heaps of kids and the adults all enjoyed socialising with each other. At eighteen I was one of the older of the "children" in the group which was good in some ways but a bit of a drag in others.

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MaryAnn was completely engrossed in her notes from that morning's seminar. A glass of wine sat on the table, but that was mostly an excuse to occupy a table. Her reverie was broken by the waitress who sat another glass of Chablis in front of her and announced, "From the gentleman over there." "Damn it," she thought. "Why can't I sit here in peace? Just because I'm a woman all by myself in a hotel bar doesn't mean I'm a hooker or an out of town housewife on the prowl."

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'Shit, I'm late again,' I thought as I looked down at my watch. 9:56. I've got four minutes to park the car, run into the mall and punch in before the boss has another reason to yell at me. And like that, I ran as fast as my young legs could take me. With 7 seconds to spare. 'It's gonna be a good day,' I thought as I adjusted myself. As good of a day as one could have at the mall, that is. It was the summer before my sophomore year in college.

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I don't want to open my eyes. It feels so peaceful and warm lying in my bed listening to the rain falling on my roof. The little drops create a rhythmic pattern, a song if you will as they plummet and splash one by one. You may be hard pressed to appreciate the rain. Maybe you don't see the beauty in a sky painted in shades of gray, may consider it bleak or dreary, not me. Rain is the element necessary to sustain all life, how could that be dreary?

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