Your erotic stories

I was driving back from the airport after seeing off my husband, who was off on tour for 10 days. As I drove through very light morning traffic, I was thinking of the unusual happenings of last few days. * I am a housewife, happily (?) married for 18 years and mother of a 16 year old daughter. At 39, I still have a lot of sexual urge, though my husband, who is otherwise loving & caring, is not much bothered about it.

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I had driven 25 of the 50 kilometres of my way home from the Christmas Eve celebrations I had at my girlfriend's home. I decided to call in on old Miss Tomlinson, my old retired schoolteacher, she and I finished school the same year; I at 16 and she at 60. That was 12 years ago. Why I decided to call in on her I have no idea still. Sure I saw her in her garden and waved as I passed her house on many occasions, but never once stopped.

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She was gazing through the window overlooking the pool, when Fran came up beside her, handing her a tall glass, frosted with dew. "Thanks, Fran, I need that on a day like this," she said, but her attention was outside. Fran moved alongside her, and the two women gazed at the view. "Penny for them," said Fran. "Just thinking that it's over two years since I last got laid."

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Molly opened her eyes and blinked several times as she realized that she was in a strange bed in a strange room. She was naked, but covered with a sheet. Molly sat up on her elbow, holding the sheet over her body and looked around. It was a pleasant room, richly appointed with elegant furnishings. Suddenly she gave a start as she saw a man sitting in an upholstered chair looking back at her. Frightened, she asked, "Who are you and where am I?" The man smiled pleasantly and tried to put her at ease.

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Selma Fox looked at the Senior English Class and considered which lucky young man would be her boytoy that semester. The first and most rigid requirement she had was that he had to be at least 18 years old, because she didn't want to get into any trouble with the law. Fucking and sucking off students was frowned on by the officials of the school district but, as long as nobody got hurt and no laws were broken, they would be willing to look the other way. Good teachers were hard to find, and Selma was one of the best.

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Thomas Powell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping his wife Lorraine would not notice his restlessness. No matter how hard he tried to avert his gaze, his eyes were continually drawn to the image in the backyard. But it was not the slight tilt of his head that was required to capture the desired sightline that was the cause of his stirring - it was the effect that the vision before him was having on him.

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I had a visitor the other day; hadn’t seen her in twenty years. Last time I saw her, she was eighteen; must be about forty now. I was sitting on the patio shooting the breeze with some of the other residents here, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw the patio door open. As soon as she stepped out, I knew her. I would have recognized her from a mile away, she had the same charisma, the same force of character, she had as a little girl.

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I had just arrived home on break from college and was in Chip’s neighborhood, so I figured I’d just drop in and see if he’d gotten home yet. No one answered when I rang the doorbell and I was about to head back down the driveway when I heard a splash, indicating that someone was using the pool. I walked around the side of the house thinking it might be Chip but stopped before I opened the gate to the backyard. I could see the diving board still vibrating and a figure just surfacing at the shallow end of the pool.

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Leonard Hazard was the King, no doubt about it. Lots of people were telling him he was so good at all of the extreme sports that he should be in national competition. What he loved was his skateboard, he could do things on it that appeared to be impossible. There was even a local competition which he had won so easily it wasn't even a competition really, when he went up the ramp and caught air he was a good two feet higher than anyone else.

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I didn't think too much about it the first time I saw Merrill and David together. After all, one wouldn't make a connection would one: she, an almost-thirty-three, high-flying tax lawyer and he a high school student? They sat chatting in the late afternoon sunshine on the low stone wall that separates my garden and that of David's parents. They weren't even facing each other; more shoulder-near-shoulder, facing in opposite directions, with their feet in their respective gardens.

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