Your erotic stories

I'm 44 now and the following scenario has been going on for the best part of a year. I have a lover, who at 24 is not only much younger but the best thing I have ever ended up in bed with. Every weekend and the odd week night is spent in the kind of sexual bliss a woman only dreams about. My name is Pat; I have dark hair hanging in ringlets past my neck and a good body for my age, a legacy of having a super pair of cycling legs. I used to work with him and on the Xmas night out he drunkenly offered to go down on me. I was surprised and flattered.

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I hate it when they keep moving stuff around. When it comes to things like fish or produce, I find better quality at the local health food chain store. But the produce department here seems to like to move things around from week to week, I guess to create a more seasonally appropriate display. But I'm a pragmatic man, and I like to find things in the same place.

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My business partner Les and I have been mates since we were 13-year olds at school together. We lived a few doors from each other, we went on booze 'n' birds holidays to Spain together, we were best man at each other's weddings, and my wife and I are godparents to his daughter Becky. Stella and I weren't lucky enough to have kids of our own, but we only live a short distance from Les and his wife Irene, and Becky has almost been like our own daughter.

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"My mom's convinced I won't graduate without getting pregnant," Kaylea told me, tucking in her shirt before tying her apron around her waist. "There are ways to make sure that doesn't happen," I joked. She rolled her eyes at me. "I'm serious, Kaylea." "I know," she said. "I'm careful. I won't get pregnant, Tim, I promise." As her boss instead of a teacher or parent, I knew I could say things to her other adults couldn't. "Famous last words of eighteen year olds everywhere," I teased right before adding the words I never should have said.

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This was my time, I decided. I always had to look good for him, so I stayed in shape. At 59, I regularly heard that I looked much younger, and that was always a welcome compliment. I mean, I feel younger than 59. I think of my mom at 59 and she was in housecoats, or frumpy bland clothes. I preferred vibrant colors, current trends.

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"I can't believe she came," Carol hissed, her eyes following the brunette as she walked through the door. "Dan's biological mom?" I asked, looking where my wife was looking. "She was with my dad just long enough to give birth to my brother and then walk out on them. I can't believe she would show up here." Carol shook her head in disbelief, watching the older woman break into a group of my in-law's friends, smiling and laughing with them before they nervously broke away.

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Danielle and I were making out on the couch. I had just unbuttoned her blouse and was about to lower my mouth to her braless breasts. She has tits to die for, and I never get tired of looking at them. Just as I got my lips on one of her nipples....the phone rang. "Shit!" "Let the machine get it." I sucked it into my mouth, just as the answering machine spewed out this very familiar voice. Danni jumped up and grabbed for the phone. I had drool on my chin.

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The beach was clean that morning, as it was every morning. Throughout the night, the caress of the surf had swept away all the sandcastles and pock marks left by the sunbathers and scampering children of yesterday. The broad expanse of sand was as smooth as a woman's inner thigh. At the edge of the wave's reach, a dark line of detritus had been deposited by those same waves.

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"What a nice place you have," you say to me, as you step into my home. You smile teasingly, "I didn't think a man could ever be this neat." "Thank you," I say with a sardonic grin, "I find it's easier to be neat. Do you mind leaving your shoes here? May I take your jacket and would you like something to drink?" "Fresh! I've just walked in and already you're taking my clothes off," you say, looking down coyly, then you smile to let me know you're joking. "I am thirsty, a glass of water would be nice." You step out of your pumps, then slip off the short sleeved bolero vest, and hand it to me.

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"Hi. What are you doing here?" I heard the familiar voice as I felt the tap on my shoulder. It was the girl who serves coffee to me every day at the local Starbucks. I instinctively stood as I turned to face her. "Hello. Well, I came to the restaurant for dinner, and since my table won't be ready for a while, I thought I'd come in to the lounge to have a drink and relax. How about you?" She laughed lightly. "Well, my date was supposed to meet me here over fifteen minutes ago."

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