Your erotic stories

At 18 years old, I still had another few decades before I would even begin to figure out what life was all about. All I knew is that I was cursed by an insatiable sex drive that, because I was still a virgin, I had to take care of with my hands. And I took care of it a lot. At least two or three times a day I would have to whip out my cock and jerk off. I was also cursed (some might call it blessed) with an enormous cock. My cock was so big around that I couldn't close my fingers on it and I could two fist that mother with lots to spare.

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When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She's gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.

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It was Cathy, my girlfriend, who found me the flat. When my old landlord died, and his son served notice on the tenants, I needed somewhere cheap, and available quickly. Of course, the ideal thing would have been to move in with Cathy. But she shared her parents' old house in Bedford with her sister, and anyway, I'd tried commuting from there into London for a couple of weeks. The 'BedPan line' -- Bedford to St Pancras -- was legendary at the time as not so much a rail route, more a fiendish torture cunningly designed by the operator to drive unwary commuters insane.

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CHAPTER 1 Wealthy widow Clara Wells (52) was assisting with catering at the Fairmont 84-lap annual Golden Oldies 150 at the 1.8-mile car racetrack as part of her charity work when a tanned graying guy showing immaculate teeth and dressed in an orange racing suit with sponsors' emblems plastered all over it, came up to her and said, "Hi gorgeous... a chicken salad sandwich and glass of milk please."

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A flip of a switch filled the yard with colored lights. Regina smiled while watching the spruce trees lining the sidewalk appear to spin. She didn't care that chasing lights were out of style — she liked them. Curtain lights, icicle lights, LEDs... The trend changed every year anyway. Turning around, she sighed. It was hard to get into the spirit in an empty house. The loss of her dad five years earlier had started it, followed by her mother the following year, and then the divorce.

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Sometimes I wake up at night and I can still feel her mouth on me. I wrap my arms around myself and ache to feel her body on mine, lick my fingers and wish I could taste her salty skin, find my hands inside my shorts and fool myself for just a minute that it is her hands on me, making me moan. Still, this is not nearly as difficult as being in her presence. To admire her, watching her move, studying every curve and remembering how my hands explored, no, loved every one of them. To talk with her, not hearing the sounds she makes, only seeing the shapes that form as they exit her lips, knowing how wonderful it felt to be inside her mouth.

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Arnold Rasmussin, 42 year old, married white male, was very angry. Very angry. He was the senior accountant for United Foundations, Inc. and he had been passed over again when it came to the assignment of interns to members of the accounting staff. Arnold did not do anything about this. He didn't five years ago when the internship program was begun and he did not each year interns had been assigned since then.

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Beth sat at the bar waiting for her best friend to arrive. It had been months since they had seen each other and this had bothered Beth deeply. For years they had shared all the highs and lows of each others lives. It was a friendship that Beth felt would always be there. Over the past couple of years they had grown apart and Beth had searched deep within herself trying to figure out why this had happened.

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When I was a kid my best mate was Dean Kelly. As so happens with these things, our mothers got to know each other when they would pick Dean and I up from school, and they too became friends. I would stay over at the Kelly's place and Dean would often stay over at our place. The Kelly's had a pool and so summers were always more fun at Dean's house! Dean and I were on the same touch football team as well and so our families started to go on outings with each other, such as picnics, hikes, football and cricket matches, and the occasional camping trip.

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I always get very tired along about mid-afternoon of the second day at these conventions. It has something to do with strolling the endless aisles of the exposition in between attending seminars and lectures. The Las Vegas Convention Center goes on for miles and, as is usually the case, I was hitting a wall that Wednesday as I cruised up Aisle 2100, bobbing in and out of booths and making small talk with the salespeople. You can only take so much computer gibberish after awhile.

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