Your erotic stories

I'm a 55 year old widow who still looks pretty good. My figure is 36C-24-36 and still pretty firm. I weigh 130lbs which is only ten pounds more than I did in high school and that ten pounds is muscle. My hair is dirty blonde which is just starting to turn gray. I'm pretty tall for a woman - 5' 10". The main reason I still look pretty good is I take a Pilates class every week on Mondays. I really enjoy it and it's keeping me looking good.

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This was my wife's idea, and I'm not really sure where it's going. I'm standing awkwardly next to a guy I know kinda casually, but just recently learned a lot more about. I already knew he was a few inches taller than me, but I just learned that he's a few inches longer, too. Were both naked, and our wives are rubbing mineral oil on our backs.

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Elita carried a natural sexual presence that exemplified her sexual appetite. Her tall, firm, slender, perfectly proportioned frame commanded attention from both sexes and gave her sensations that she had grown to enjoy more through her 20's as she gained a clearer understanding of the powers of attraction that her long blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and full, scarlet lips brought with them.

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1 The door to his room was ajar, but she knocked anyway, because she didn't want to surprise him, especially if he were in some kind of compromising situation. She heard a distant "Come in!", and she closed the door behind her. "I'm back here," she heard next, and walked back to the bedroom in the suite.

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I sat on the couch staring into the fire and feeling very content. A light snow was falling outside, making the small house feel even cozier. The only light in the room came from the flickering flames. It was a perfectly comfortable evening, one that I wished could last forever. And at this moment, in my mind, I knew it would.

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You are on the phone and I cannot resist. I am drawn to the sound of your voice, just like Peaches-the-cat, and just as predisposed to purr as she is. You are sitting in your chair, staring sightlessly at the computer monitor as you talk. 'Ah, good,' I think, 'its not work-related.' I long to touch you and I do so, running my fingers over your bare shoulders and down your chest.

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"Ugh. Whatever happened to standards Sharon? Why does everyone think all you need to be a secretary is to look good?" Meet Jake Andrews, a 38 year old CEO of a medium sized business firm. Jake looked pretty average with his brown hair, brown eyes, and an unassuming Caucasian face, not ugly but not handsome by any stretch.

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"...and...sent." I had just e-mailed Beth, a coworker of mine, instructions for a dare I had designed. That girl was a sexual risk taker for sure. I suppose I couldn't blame her though their was something in us both that drove our minds to seek pleasure in risky and extreme situations.

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Stuck in traffic - again. It was going to take a long time getting into work, the stop and go was starting at Trafalgar Road - Sigh should have caught the train. Oh well, sit back and let it flow - no point getting tense over things which one can't control. I looked to the trees and fences on the side of the highway, sometimes in the winter there are interesting raptors. This year, however, a good crop of voles was reported further north, and the Snowy Owls probably wouldn't move this far south.

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The sun shone blindingly, its radiance and emanating warmth serving as a deceitful mirage, a false comfort that belied the earth's frigid cold. Yet, its beauty was genuine, reminiscent of vintage holiday greeting cards. The snow sparkled with what seemed like an endless bounty of fragmented diamonds, its vast blanket spread out across pure expanses of slopes and dipping valleys, their virginity untouched by the invasive violations of civilization.

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