Your erotic stories

My name is Mark and I have a confession. I'm an attractive 35 year old man with a pretty wife and two great little kids. I have a good job, a nice house and what appears from the outside to be a perfectly normal life. But I have a secret...a hot, sexy, naughty, filthy little secret named Lizzy. Lizzy was 19 when this all started (actually she had just turned 20, but that didn't make me feel any better). She was the daughter of Tom, one of my two bosses and a guy that could ruin my life if he ever suspected that I had done anything with his gorgeous daughter.

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I stepped away from the painting and arched my back to relieve the ache. The large canvas required me to stand, but the years and a legacy of arthritis from my father made it difficult. I always managed to become swept up in the brush strokes and the blending of subtle hues, and it wasn’t until I stopped that I knew I‘d been on my feet too long. The coffee was cold, and I poured it back into the pot to re-heat.

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The mid-term grades had just been posted and most of the class crowded around the board trying to see. I was near the back of the crowd and just waited. "Wow Bob, an 'A'! You must be a genius." I looked behind me to see Jean, one of the nicer looking women in the class. "What did you get?"

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Fred couldn't remember how he got into the city the next morning. In fact when he realised he was in the city he couldn't remember waking up, getting dressed, having breakfast and getting into the car. He even glanced down guiltily to make sure he was dressed. He had gone to the city, he decided, because it was about the time he usually went there. He tried to remember what he usually bought in the hypermarket and in this way he slowly managed to work his way around to the checkout.

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“You know what we need?” Cynthia said slurring her speech slightly. “What’s that?” Sally said looking to her best friend. Cynthia leaned into her friend and lowered her voice, “Some young stud with a fat cock that can go all night on the two of us.” She said grinning. “Yeah, right.” Sally said looking away and dismissing her friend. “I’m serious,” Cynthia said louder leaning back away from Sally, “look at us we’re still hot we could still get some young, hung boy to go for us.”

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Alan's mother, Nora, had retired to a gated community to golf away her twilight years. Her comfortable home was across the street from Jim and Sally. They had been so nice to Nora when she moved in, shortly after the death of her husband, Alan's dad. Jim was a retired banker who married late in life. He was in his late 70's now, while Sally was in her early 50's. He was a tall slim southern gentleman. She was a short bubbly blonde who was aging gracefully. She stayed active enough to look a few years younger than she was. She was devoted to Jim.

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The conversation with his physician was just the kick in the butt that he needed. Brian James was 59 years old, recently widowed and lost. His marriage of 33 years was a good one. He and Laura enjoyed a loving relationship and a healthy sex life. At times they were adventurous, but never what one would call "kinky". They enjoyed "Viagra-free" sex until two years ago when Laura was diagnosed with uterine cancer.

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I'm a Major in the U.S. Army stationed at Ft. Benning, GA. I enjoy working down here because I'm also something of a history buff and I love going to the old Civil War battle sites in Atlanta, Chattanooga and other places. I've even been to a few Civil War re-enactor battles and talked to the re-enactors themselves to learn what's involved. I've thought about buying the old uniforms and weapons and becoming a player myself but just haven't gotten around to it. Maybe in my retirement. Anyway, this has been a good tour of duty for me.

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The weather was getting colder by the minute or at least that's the way it seemed every time they talked about it on the TV. It was snowing but not too hard YET. The forecast was calling for six or seven inches before midnight. The way it was going I would get to my cabin around seven so I should be all right. I'm thirty-one and work in Manhattan as a lawyer and have a hunting type of log cabin as a retreat up in the Maine woods.

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Sara walked into the bar, she hadn't been in one in years. After her eyes adjusted to the smoky dimness, she found her way to the bar. There was one stool open between two men. She politely asked if the seat was taken and settled onto it after the guys looked at her dumbly. Now she remembered why she quit going to bars and sitting at the bar itself, the stools just didn't fit her ample ass comfortably.

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