Your erotic stories

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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I'm Brad, 27 years old, 6 ft 2 in, 190 lb, brown hair, and light blue eye. I exercise regularly and am in reasonable shape. Lola Monroe, my partner, is 48 years old, 5 ft 4 in, 115 lb, short and dense blonde hair, green eyes, short nose, and high cheek bones. She is a positive person with a bubbly personality. Lola is in good shape: a relatively flat tummy, plump-34C boobs, narrow 22-in waist; she also has a flawless complexion. Besides inherited good genes, couple of times during a week, she played doubles tennis and exercised on a treadmill at home.

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I was spent, my cock was slowly deflating, still wrapping loosely in the sticky condom. My wife lay snoozing beside me sent to dreamland by a late night fucking. This was an anomaly in our household. Monthly sex in the morning or early evening was our typical fare after five years of marriage, two kids and never enough time.

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I used to visit my grandmother at the nursing home until she passed away. During the final weeks, I used to sometimes visit with another resident names Lois. After my grandmother passed away, I continued to visit Lois and we began an affair that has lasted to this day. Lois joked once that she knew several other woman that would appreciate a "visit" from me.

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I couldn't believe that my mother had "volunteered" me to help one of her church friends. I barely knew the woman and was just back from a long road trip to a rock concert two states away. I was tired and only wanted to sleep but my mother figured it would be good for me to help her friend move into her new apartment. She had even made travel arrangements that I knew nothing about until she shook me awake that morning.

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"Passion rules us all," someone once said. "And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments." And I know, in my time with Alexandra, these are some of those finest moments. Also, the most terrifying. Summer. New Orleans. She and I are facing each other, lying on a bed in our second-story room at a small European-like pension.

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