Your erotic stories

Jordan stepped outside his small London hotel and paused. His business here in England was completed and he had one more day to sightsee before his flight home. This late October day had been cold and drizzly since morning and he was glad he'd saved his free time for some museums. He held an umbrella and glanced upwards. The sky was nearly dark with the early winter night.

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He had just turned sixty when his wife passed away. Along with her passed the dreams of a retirement of travel with her as his constant companion. They had planned to travel the world together, but it was not to be. Now he moped about their home with no ambition or desire to do anything, including keep the house clean. He sometimes straightened a little, knowing how disappointed she would have been to see her home in such disorder. He couldn't bring himself to show much interest in anything, until finally, his children told him he had to clean up his act.

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Mariah walked out of the office feeling extremely self-conscious. She'd never once in her life imagined that she'd have to accept public assistance, but circumstances had forced her to do exactly that. After losing her job and having no luck finding another one, her savings had run out, leaving her little choice. Her family was helping, but it was barely enough to pay the rent and utilities, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for more.

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Sam knew. "Who?" was all he asked. I didn't have to ask what he meant. "My new partner." Department regulations strictly prohibited fraternization between fellow officers. Fuck your partner, and you're not going to put your head out there in front. You have to think, not lust, or you end up dead. Toll collecting's a dangerous business these days, what with anarchy only a hair's breadth away.

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It had been nearly two years since I lost my wife to a drunk driver. Dating at twenty is a bitch, dating at fifty... well, let's not go there. I had a lot of friends, and that helped, but to be honest, porn and hand jobs were no replacement for the twice a week sex I was used to for the last twenty five years. As I said, dating at fifty is a bitch, there aren't too many choices in a small town, even a college town like the one where I teach.

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Verity swung her board hard left to avoid the jagged rocks. She was so used to surfing this stretch of beach, that she now did it almost without conscious thought. Even so, she wiped out as the wave, the board, and her balance all disagreed at once on how much was too much. When her head broke the surface of the water, she kicked out powerfully with her long legs and caught her board in a few strokes. She was already in the shallows, and so had no trouble walking out of the cool surf.

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The first time I was with another couple was in California. I worked at night as a musician, spent days running, biking, practicing. Occasionally I'd pick up a movie at the local adult store. Adult store patrons are the same the world over: middle-aged married men, rendezvous-ing gay men, horny twenty-year-old gotta-get-off-NOW men (that was me). Drunks and druggies of all shapes and sizes. A prostitute or two. And the occasional nervous couple.

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"Hello, Frank." I turned and smiled. I expected to see at least a couple of my old teachers when I decided to stop by my old high school, but I was still surprised to see Mrs. Ross standing there. What was even more amazing was that she looked just as hot as I remembered.

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I have a huge problem. I'm 22, 6'1, 175 lbs., with light brown hair and grey eyes. I'm a college student at a prestigious university, and I'm studying psychology. I'm an honor student, and I'm an athlete. I work out, play baseball, lacrosse, and basketball, and I'm in very good shape. My parents are rich, so I've never really had to worry about money.

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You have to understand this: despite my lover's sexuality and beauty, she tends to hide her light under a bushel in public. She rarely wants her physical appearance to be the center of attention. It's a long story as to why this is so, and perhaps that's a story for another time. Suffice it to say that she reminds me of a line from the movie, Moulin Rouge:

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