Your erotic stories

Chapter 1: My name is Ed Aronhalt. I'm fifty-eight years old and lost my wife three years ago to cancer. Mary was a very overweight woman and always called herself fat; I always preferred the term chubby even though she weighed well over two hundred pounds. We had a great life together with two wonderful caring daughters who are now married with families of their own.

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The sound of the bell ringing after third period was a reminder for the four girls to hang back and get their favorite teacher to sign their academic reports so the volleyball coach knew they were okay to play. Letting the other three go before her, she waved as they headed off to fourth period as she held the page out to the teacher. He was, hands down, the hottest teacher on campus, all the students thought so.

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I was watching a movie the other day, with academy award level acting by the way, where a housewife fucks the plumber when he came by to "fix" the pipes. It reminded me of a role playing situation, I found myself in quite unexpectedly one night. It involves me, a certain man of whom I had a very active sex life with (two guesses for my fans), and

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"Tomorrow's the big day, right Mom?" "Absolutely, Megan. We need to get these two guys on our side regarding the Bankhead drilling project. They're the last two pieces of the puzzle as far as I'm concerned. You know what to do?" "Anything they say. Or want," Megan replied. Amanda smiled. She was the thirty nine year old CEO of GIC Corporation, an energy supplier throughout the northern United States. Their scientists recently discovered an oil and natural gas supply that would keep them in business for decades.

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I sat in the huge meeting hall of the San Diego Convention Center waiting for the keynote speaker to begin his insightful, though most likely useless, remarks. The hospital I worked for had sent me on an all expenses paid vacation from the drudgery of the nine to five office grind in hopes I'd pick up some gems on how to improve the bottom line. Such gems hardly ever come from keynote speakers. If gems are to be found, it will be in the working sessions later -- keynote addresses are about as useful and practical as your commencement speaker's advice to your class when you graduated.

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I had been watching my mother's friend, Mrs. Ashlock, for many years. She was about forty-five with a face pretty enough for a movie star and a slender but voluptuous body that was the envy of her friends. I was what they call "sexually precocious," I guess. Women's bodies became an object of vague, unfocused but intense desire at about the age of seven. Photos in popular magazines such as hosiery and swimsuit ads drew my interest and caused an unidentified but pleasurable stirring in my chest. Janet Ashlock, however was real flesh and blood and was often in our home or we in hers.

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One day I got a call from a young lady in response to an ad I placed for my in-home personal training business. She was just out of High School, and had just landed a job. With her new salary wanted to do something to improve her body. She decided to flip a coin as to whether she should join a gym or go to a personal training studio. Luckily it gave "head" and she chose me.

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It was late in the summer, and I’d been working construction along the LeHigh River, not far from Fontana Dam. A former teacher, I had become used to the cycle of nine months of inside work and three outdoors. This year, my marriage was suffering a bit more than usual as I’d taken a job that separated me from my wife and family but brought in the income needed to support them. I lived on the per diem, stayed in company housing, and sent my salary home.

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It was barely half-past-five and as the sun went down the mercury was falling even faster. The media had been reporting on it all day. The temperature was expected to hit a record low tonight, even for this northern clime, possibly as low as forty degrees below zero. Everyone was warned to stay off the streets and there was a scramble to help the homeless to shelter.

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She leaned against a tree, watching from a distance. Tyler didn't even notice until the field had cleared. He felt a presence, someone watching him. And then in the shadows of the trees he spotted her. Who was she, what was she doing there? He finished packing his bag and started to walk in her direction. Glancing back, he noticed that no one was left in the parking lot except his cousin, his ride home.

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