Your erotic stories

Chapter One: Bored and alone. It was Saturday night and it was getting late. I had watched COPS for an hour, having gotten my weekly dose of schadenfreude from watching people with lives even more miserable than my own have theirs go down the tube in front of the whole country, and now I was sitting in front of the computer finishing my final beer of the evening. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but was just skipping around from site to site, hoping to make my eyes tired enough so that sleep would come easier for me.

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MATURE HEDDA IS PREGNANT I attended a clinic for football coaches for three days in Orlando and returned home well after midnight; Hedda, my lover, was asleep and I did not want to wake her up. On the first morning of spring break, I smelled coffee as I got out of bed late; it meant Hedda was up. After a quick shower and drinking a cup of coffee, I went to the living room to find Hedda reclined on a sofa and talking on the cell phone. She had on a black, translucent, mesh, crotch-less, body stocking.

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So there I was - fifty-two years old and planning to commit adultery for the first time in my life. I'd been married to the same woman for thirty years, and never been unfaithful. I'd negotiated my way through the modern world, seemingly made up of human beings obsessed with sex, and managed to avoid that one mortal sin at least. But tonight was going to be different. Tonight I was going to going to cast myself into the pit of lust, treachery, and deceit.

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Now, it's not what you might think; I'm not talking about that annoying Microsoft Office pop-up. No, I'm talking about the London Clippy, more properly known as a bus conductress. This was long before the Oyster Card method of payment that you wand as you board a bus, through concertina folding doors. Back then there was no door, just an open platform at the back left hand side (e.g. the side facing the pavement). A driver would pull up almost one bus length beyond the painted sign that was attached to a post.

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This is quite pleasant, Fred thought, as he lounged by the community pool, located only steps from his retirement home. He had always liked to swim, even back in Ohio during the cold winters, and the size of the pool permitted him to lap swim and keep fit. Yesterday he did a half-mile, so this was his day to relax. When it cooled later, he would walk a mile or two around the village. It was too bad his ex-wife Betty couldn't enjoy this. Yeah, right, that bitch ran off with a wealthy business man five years ago.

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He sat in his favorite chair, on the back deck, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was feeling sorry for himself remembering old times with his ex-wife. Their union had not been the most exciting life experience. He, was however, looking forward to his ritual afternoon pleasure. He was on his fourth or maybe fifth beer when she finally made her appearance, his next-door neighbor who on any bright sunny afternoon made her ablutions to the sun god wearing nothing but a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. She was too young for him to guess her age, but he took a stab at it noting the maturity of her curves the width of her gorgeous hips and guessed between twenty-eight and thirty-five.

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"How'd you like to get hold of that?" Roger Goins asked as he stirred his fresh drink. Roger was one of those guys who always talked about strange pussy, but never seemed to make an attempt to get any. He was too pussy-whipped by his wife, Elaine, to take a chance. Me, I was on the look out all the time—but so was my wife, Shirley. It took about fifty years and four marriages for me to learn that a woman who liked to fuck all the time—the only kind I wanted to be married to—was going to fuck somebody else every now and then.

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Vikki came into my life through a business venture of mine. I had to make some contractual agreements with several not for profit organizations so they'd agree to lend me certain information that they had in their possession. Vikki put the contracts together so I wouldn't get myself into legal trouble. I was expecting to get a 60-ish balding lawyer when I contracted her firm for legal services and instead they sent her out. When we first met she was dressed quite smartly, as one would expect, and conservatively enough to satisfy even the most up tight executive.

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The summer after my sophomore year of college began as a boring one. I was taking summer school classes to fulfill a few perspectives so that I could concentrate on my major courses during my last two years of school. I had a work-study job during my time in summer school so the rent wasn't a problem at the time, but once summer school was over it was different story. I had no classes to go to, no job, no friends to hang out with (everyone I knew went home and my roommates were both still in summer school and had jobs), and nothing to do that would fill that empty void—that is until one fateful day in early July.

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It had been a long day, and all Jim Reynolds wanted to think about was taking in an evening run and enjoying a quiet Friday night at home. He had a full weekend planned ahead of him, finishing up the renovation work on his latest real estate investment. Running and working was his way of staving off depression. Since his divorce five years ago, he had been buying older homes, living in them while he updated them, and then selling them. If you didn't mind living in substandard conditions for a while, it was a good way to make a tidy profit outside regular work, and keep your mind off growing old alone.

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