Your erotic stories

My eighteenth birthday didn't feel very different to me. It was a Wednesday and I still had to go to school. My family wasn't going to celebrate my birthday until the weekend so I really wasn't expecting much. A senior in high school, I hadn't even gotten a date yet. The most I had done was make out a little bit with Mary Jane Kapinsky at a party. I was resigned to just another ordinary day.

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Alex and I had been dating for a year our relationship was going great and our sex life was amazing, we had tried many things and were very open with each other sexually. She knew I was into things that were generally kinky and out of the ordinary. One time we were naked kissing on her bed our tongues were sliding across each others and her hand slowly started to caress my leg. She was making little circles on my skin as her hand slowly made its way down my leg towards my now hard cock.

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I prefer older women. Or to be politically correct, "mature" women. I'll take a "mature" woman in her 40s or 50s any day over someone who is younger. Why? My experience has been that mature women are more comfortable with their bodies. They are more open to receiving and giving sexual pleasure and are more open to sexually adventuresome activities like lots of oral, role playing, anal, and if you are lucky, you can find a mature women that is open to threesomes and more, if you know what I mean.

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At the hotel bar she's just finishing her glass of wine, relaxing from the meetings of the day. It had been ten hours since she left her room this morning, and she can't wait to get back to it now. She's still dressed in her formal business attire-- skirt suit, dark nylons, medium heels, her long auburn hair done up in a nice wrap-- and she's looking forward to a nice hot bath and some entertaining company for the rest of the evening.

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For the past month or so, my wife Mary had gone out every Saturday night on a "girls night out" with a bunch of her friends. They would go to someone's house for an evening of fun -- laughing, drinking, gossiping, and just doing 'girl stuff' that she would not go into detail about. The wife of a friend of mine from work had gone to a couple of these parties too.

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He shivered and pulled the collar of his coat up higher, trying to keep the cold rain from running down his neck. Obviously his decision to walk to the art gallery had not been a good one. Hopefully Angie would be able to do something about his wet clothes. Angie was the owner of the small and very successful art gallery.

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Sunday morning came sooner than I hoped it would but nonetheless it was here. It was around 8 am and I had ordered breakfast in bed to be delivered at 9:30. I rolled over and saw Steve still sleeping soundly facing away from me. He was still in his new sheer black babydoll and tanga panties that I had given him last night as a gift for a wonderful orgasm.

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It's a beautiful hot summer day and I'm in the front garden admiring my hard work. Weed free beds, blooming flowers soaking up the water I have given them, bees and butterflies dancing to natures tune. "Hey Mrs B, how are ya?" I'm startled, shaken from my reverie. I see Robbie's friend Dean on the pavement, looking young and fresh in shorts, jogging on the spot. I smile my automatic welcoming 'Mummy' smile.

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It was 1:30 in the morning and the streets were deserted. That was a good thing since I wasn't focusing on the road. All I could think about was fucking Joann. That had been pretty much my only thought since I discovered she had embezzled a large sum of cash from the radio station we worked for. I'd been holding that over her head for a couple of weeks and taking advantage of it on a daily basis.

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The sun shone brightly in the sky against the backdrop of the mountains and a few birds could be seen flying about. The view could make anyone looking at it breathe a deep sigh of contentment, but not the woman standing in front of her office window. In fact, the sigh that she gave was one of sadness - not the deep heart-wrenching kind she had sighed six months before, but sad just the same.

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